


Synchronous

by tykimikkitty



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Bleeding Effect, Conspiracy, Family Drama, Memories, Possession, Psychological Drama, Time Travel, Timey-Wimey, Visions, ahsoka and obi-wan look on in confusion, luke and co scream internally
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:01:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 52,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21836371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tykimikkitty/pseuds/tykimikkitty
Summary: It's the usual time-entangling fiasco: "Find the disturbance. Rectify the wrong. Fix the anomaly. Bring balance to the past so the Force may be balanced in the future." There is a slight miscalculation, however, and Luke Skywalker finds himself in the Clone Wars while having to masquerade in the body of his late father Anakin Skywalker. Leia and Han aren't so helpful either.
Comments: 90
Kudos: 410





	1. 001: crack

**Author's Note:**

> let's give ao3 a shot!

" _You can never truly understand a person unless you yourself are that person_ " is quite a realist line of thought. Some might even call the statement pessimistic or even downright nihilistic _—_ without a drop of youthful, starry-eyed idealism. Even so, regardless of a one's philosophical class or personal opinions, one has to admit there is at least a sliver of 'correctness' in that statement from all points of view.

What is _that person_ feeling?

Why is _that person_ acting in that way?

Why did _that person_ do those things?

We as humans can never truly know since we can never become _that person_ _—_

_— right?  
_

* * *

anomaly 01

_He remembers the rolling sand hills of Tatooine. He remembers how the wind caressed them, how it created grooves and ruts along the hills' otherwise smooth surface, how it sometimes kicked up the sand in a swirling storm of brown and gray._

_He remembers the taste of the air — grainy, thin, so dry that just breathing it in made his throat ache._

_He remembers the touch of light from the twin suns on his skin. He remembers their dual intensities and what time of day their rays were at their fiercest._

_He remembers the hum of his racer beneath his palm — the cool metal vibrating beneath his fingertips, the engine guttering noisily on stall. He remembers the vehicles scratches, its faults, its mismatches, the components he'd replaced and fixed. He even remembers the coin he'd wedged in between the base of its wheel and its dashboard in a fit of boredom on a hot summer afternoon._

_He remembers the slosh of blue milk in his glass cup, the clash and clank of dishes in the sink, her quiet hum as she set the table for three._

_He remembers all of these things to every minuscule detail, to every grain of sand, to every cloud dotting the horizon, but—_

— _he is quite uncertain whether or not these are truly 'his' memories at all._

* * *

Anakin **felt** it before he _felt_ it.

He was in the heart of the battlefield with his lightsaber drawn out and ignited when he **felt** the thing — the thing being quite distracting amidst the cacophony of the battlefield. Blaster bolts were pelting down into bodies, rocks, ground, dirt — eating away everything and everyone without discrimination like acid rain. The mechanical thump, thump, thump of approaching droids was constant. Dirt was hung up in the air like a suffocating blanket with nowhere to go but around the large slabs of rocks that littered the ground, around the troopers firing into the field, around the droids firing back at them.

Captain Rex was several feet away from him and was shooting precisely at the oncoming droids. Their mechanical parts littered the ground along with their weapons and on occasion a clone helmet or two.

Yes, given his current circumstance, Anakin was _almost_ distracted and _almost_ caught off guard when he **felt** it. "Almost" was a keyword.

It was like a bright beacon blinking in and out of existence in a way that seemed to shout 'Hey! Look here! I'm an anomaly!' — a bright beacon in the Force that is. A disturbance almost, but not quite. An almost disturbance. And "almost" was a keyword here as well.

Something was coming. Something big. Coming in like a rocket — no, like a bright, hot, scalding meteor. Searingly bright, like an imperceptible falling star.

...so perhaps "almost" was not the correct word to describe it after all.

Anakin's communicator suddenly crackled and then buzzed to life. Unsurprisingly, Obi-wan was on the other end of the com—

" _Anakin_ —"

"Yeah, Obi-wan," Anakin grunted, redirecting blaster bolts with turned angles of his lightsaber, "I feel it too." Deflecting several more of the red rays, he added a bit more sarcastically: "Looks like we're being rewarded for our valiant efforts on the field."

"I'm on my way to the rendezvous point. I'll be with you shortly." — his com crackled with the Jedi master's reply — "Then, we can find out what this 'reward' is together."

Bemused sarcasm. Clear as day.

Anakin smirked at the remark, reflecting several more blaster bolts and then leaping backwards several feet to his Captain's side.

The opposing army was thinning out steadily; and the Jedi Knight could see with his eyes as well as feel with the Force that they had finally managed to thin out the enemy so much so that now the enemy was outnumbered instead of vice versa. Only a tank there, a handful of droids here, and of course that _irritatingly_ bright disturbance.

"General?" Rex greeted him questioningly over the background rumble of the battlefield. Dust covered the man from head to toe, but that didn't seem to affect his abilities at all. Every shot from his blaster connected with its target in a flash of red and scrap metal.

"Obi-wan is a few clicks south. We just need to push through this last line of droids to meet up with him." Anakin informed him, as he cut down a droid to his left. "Stay sharp. Something big is coming."

Rex gave him what he could only guess was a concerned or confused look, before he nodded. "Copy that, General."

And so they pushed forward south. Droids fell left and right downed by the rain of incoming blaster bolts as well as by the precise swings of the Jedi's lightsaber. Some of the droids appeared to have noticed that the battle was souring in their favor and several of them began to fire more erratically than before while others appeared to turn heel and flee.

 _Easier targets_ , Anakin thought callously as he sliced three droids clean in half. The tangy smell of burnt metal was beginning to thicken in the air.

Of course, there just had to be droids who made things more _difficult_ rather than easier along with the masses. One in particular that caught Anakin's attention was a lone commando droid several clicks away amongst the swarm of other droids. Its blue mechanical left arm was arched back behind its body and its hand was coiled around a circular object—

— and he **felt** the disturbance flare out like someone had uncapped the stabilizer in a proton detonator causing it to spill out energy in a tidal wave; he **felt** it burn almost as bright as the heart of a star—

"Detonator!"

Anakin saw the silver object glint through the haze of dust in the air, saw his men disperse at his signal, and saw the soaring object flash red. He caught the detonator mid-air with the Force, listened to the 'uh-oh's and 'oh no's of the droids, prepared to launch it back at the thinned out battalion—

And then, Anakin _felt_ it.

It was like everything before had been merely build up to this moment, to this _feeling_. Like fluctuating air pressures before a sonic boom, like a catalyst rapidly quickening the rate of a reaction to a new equilibrium.

If what he **felt** was the imperceptible approach of a burning meteorite, then what he _felt_ was the impact of that imperceptible thing. It's impact with his _skull,_ that is.

It was unlike anything he had ever remotely _felt_ before. And for a moment, he wondered if he was actually feeling anything at all. The _feeling_ was so unnatural that there were no cues or similarities in the physical world that he could even compare it to. There was nothing — no word — to solidify it as real. Well, there was a word—

'Invasive'.

He felt it crash down into his skull like a downed ship with its hull scraping against the Force barrier within his mind. The scratching and scraping and sliding left a piercing ring in his ears. It was a ring that seemed to carry with it another sound _—_ a voice that seemed to echo faintly in his mind like it was a recording or a memory of someone else.

FIND THE DISTURBANCE. RECTIFY THE WRONG. FIX THE ANOMALY. BRING BALANCE TO THE PAST SO THE FORCE MAY BE BALANCED IN THE FUTURE.

Gritting his teeth and swallowing a shout of pain that was arising in his throat, Anakin gripped his head tightly with his free hand as the ringing resonated and amplified.

The weight and size and power of the imperceptible thing was not what caught the war hero off guard; rather, it was the sheer force of impact, the scraping, the scratching, the expanding force of the Force that caused him to double over in agony. It was peeling away at everything around him as well as nothing at all at the same time. A paradox.

Tendrils leaked out from the cracks of the invasive thing and spilled out around the barrier within his mind. Strangely enough, despite the thing being invasive, painful, and searingly hot upon impact, the tendrils that were leaking from it were oddly…

Unfamiliarly familiar.

_What?_

Anakin paused, squinting through the haze of pain and dirt and dull sunlight, and made out glinting silver that flashed suddenly, almost violently. A bright red hue _—_ brighter than before.

The high-pitched ringing in his mind began to resonate with a monotone drone emitting from the glinting object. Beep, beep, beep, beepbeepbeeep—

Shoot! The detonator—

"General!"

Shuffling footsteps. Another shout of confused alarm.

The glinting, floating detonator let loose one last shrill ring that seemed to match the exact frequency of the ring in Anakin's head, before it was swallowed whole by a painful flash of white, red, and gray. There was a roaring boom as the explosion expanded outwards from where the detonator formerly hung in the sky. Flames and smoky grayness shot out with such force that Anakin found himself knocked clean off of his feet.

For a fraction of a second, he was in the air floating seemingly freely. In the next, he was centimeters above the ground with his head _millimeters_ above a rather sturdy looking rock. Not soon after, there was a sickening _crack!_ as bone struck rock in the battlefield; and it was followed almost simultaneously by a quieter _crack_ that echoed somewhere in the Force. And as Anakin lay there with smoke in his eyes, dirt in his lungs, and the taste of metal dry in his mouth, he could feel something leaking — something inside and outside.

Crimson clouded his vision as thoughts, memories, and feelings that were not his own clouded his mind.

Then there was darkness and silence.

* * *

anomaly 02

_He is in deep meditation when it happens — or at least, he is attempting deep meditation. Attempting or not, he is quite disturbed when he feels it tug at the corners of his mind._

_He cracks open an eye, breathes in the musty scents of plant life and smoke fire, and peers into the surrounding darkness. There, he can make out the shadowy outline of his companions in the black of the night. Unlike him, they seem to have not felt the tugging, the pulling, the disturbance._

_Uncrossing his legs, he rises to a stand, brushes dirt and moss and grass from his pants, and peers deeper into the darkness. Reaches out with his mind—_

— _and then, he hears a voice. A quiet voice. Unfamiliar, yet not quite. Milky, yet stern. The voice says—_

* * *

Certainly some soldiers felt that being in the heart of the battlefield was like injecting adrenaline straight into their hearts and dopamine into their brains, but clone Medical Officer Kix found that the real rush came after a battle ended.

Alcohol and antiseptic scents thick and heavy in the air mixed with iron from both dirt and blood, bodies shuffled left and right on hover pads, bacta pods prepped and ready, fellow med officers literally ablaze with fiery desperation to not increase casualty numbers any further —

— this was where the final front was, where the real rush came from.

Allowing such thoughts to fade from his mind, Kix slumped down into one of the stray white chairs of the medbay of his battalion's ship and sighed. The electric rush in his chest and mind had begun to ebb and all that he was left with was fatigue. Fatigue and minor satisfaction.

The casualties for this particular battle had been low. The precise numbers were floating somewhere in Kix's mind but he was to worn to bring them to the surface. Yes, the casualties had been low — few brothers killed, even fewer brothers injured. This time, however…

Kix ran a hand over his face and side glanced at the man lying on the particular medbed he was attending to.

General Anakin Skywalker. Shed of armor, dabbled with sweat and dirt, wrapped in linen bandages that were soon to be in need of changing, and completely unconscious. But definitely General Anakin Skywalker.

Now, the General had definitely taken many trips to the medbay before — he was 'the Hero with No Fear' after all — but for some reason this particular visit had Kix unnerved. The major head injury and concussion the man had received near the end of the battle were definitely worrisome, but Kix had definitely seen worse in some of the other soldiers before and they had come out of it fine. But…

Perhaps it was the numerous times Obi-wan visited the medbay with crossed arms, a quiet demeanor, and a typical stoic Jedi expression. Perhaps it was the briefest glint of concern and worry that had shown through the Jedi's facade as he'd looked the younger Jedi over. "He's stable. He'll be fine," Kix had told the General, "until we reach base. The medical station on this ship is well equipped, sir. I'll keep watch over him and the rest of the men until we touch down." But Kix himself wasn't sure if all was well in medbay city. After all—

— during the chaos that had followed the typical post-battle scenario in the med station, Skywalker had abruptly snapped to consciousness when the junior medical officers were attempting to tend to him. According to them, he had looked at them like they were strangers, asked them about the whereabouts of two unknown persons who were definitely not part of the battalion, shouted something about the Force, before promptly doubling over and fainting on the spot.

Of course — Kix knew — it wasn't rare to see a case of mild case of delirium in a soldier following a particularly straining battle, but this… this somehow felt different.

Quieting his perturbing thoughts, he listened to the drone of the heart monitors. They almost seemed in sync. Peaceful, even.

Suddenly, a soft groan followed by creaking and more groaning. The typical sounds of someone stirring to consciousness.

Kix straightened himself and shook the last tendrils of drowsiness from his mind, before he swiveled in his chair to attend to his General — his General who was now sitting upright, legs dangling over the bed, whilst he cradled his stomach and head. A groan escaped from the man's lips as his cerulean eyes swept the room. White walls; white hoverbeds; blue screens along the walls littered with numbers, letters, names; and finally—

— his gaze fell onto Kix. A strange expression flitted across his face as he looked over the medical officer, the medical officer who was soon pushing and easing him back onto the medbed.

"With all due respect, sir," Kix said almost sternly, "you are in no condition to be moving around!"

Strangely enough, Anakin complied to the request. He rested his head down slowly back onto the bed and tilted his head in Kix's direction.

The General observed him quietly, almost contemplatively — almost like how one would observe something that was out of place. His expression was guarded — no, hesitant — but curious. And perhaps even… a bit timid? Finally —

"Where…?" A pause. "Where am I?"

"In the medical bay on the cruiser, sir." Kix replied. "You got injured during the battle." He vaguely gestured to his head. "Knocked yourself pretty good in the head too."

A confused frown.

A mechanical hand reaching up towards white linen wrapped tightly around the head. Gentle prodding. And then—

"Ow… !"

Kix sighed with a raised brow. "Sir, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mess up my handiwork. You could rip open your stitches."

Skywalker looked him over carefully before he lowered his mechanical hand and mumbled a quiet and confused apology.

Kix frowned this time.

No questions about the result of the battle, no questions about casualties, no sarcastic quips; only quiet compliance and curious contemplation.

"Sir, if you don't mind, I'd like to ask a few questions. Just a couple of things to make sure everything is in order." Kix said, clearing his throat. He reached down and took the holo-medchart that was hung beside the bed off of its hook. The screen, in turn, flickered to life. "First off, sir…"

It soon became apparent to him, however, that Anakin was not listening to him at all. Rather, the man seemed to be in deep, serious thought — a thought so deep that for a moment Kix thought of just letting him be. But Kix was a medical officer and when it came to medical procedure, he was always in the right.

"General _Skywalker_."

That got his attention.

"What's the last thing you remember _clearly_?"

Furrowed eyebrows. Another set frown. Tired, slightly clouded eyes.

"The last thing I remember…?"

Suddenly, almost unexpectedly, the doors to the medbay slid open. Two figures entered the room side-by-side. They were adorned in typical clone armor — almost identical save for the decorative coloration on each: yellow on one and blue on the other. Commander Cody and Captain Rex, together like always — just like Kenobi and Skywalker.

"Kix," Rex greeted with a slight nod as Kix stood at attention, "General Kenobi just wanted me to come down to check on General Skywalker." His gaze shifted to the said man on the bed; and he seemed to crack a smile behind his helmet. "I see that—"

— and suddenly Skywalker was on his feet. He was on his feet with an expression that was a mix of pain and surprise and confusion. His mechanical hand was thrown back almost protectively in Kix's direction, while his other hand was thrown outwards towards where Rex and Cody stood—

"Stormtroopers!"

— and the two men only had time to briefly glance at each other in confusion, before they were abruptly pushed right out of the medbay and into the hall by an invisible force.

"General, what are you doing?!" Kix snapped in alarm, raising his hands placatingly as Anakin turned on him. "That was Captain Rex and Commander Cody!"

Anakin — still looking troubled and confused and delirious in general — searched Kix's face as if he could find some sort of explanation to an unasked question there. His eyebrows then furrowed deeper; and he threw a glance towards the doorway as he reached at his belt. Kix took this momentary distraction to his advantage and quickly grabbed a tranquilizer that was lying on the table next to him. By the time, Anakin turned around again, the tranquilizer was carefully hidden behind the medical officer's back.

"My lightsaber…" Anakin mumbled to himself as he felt around his belt. He paused, eyes flickering up to Kix's face — the man's cerulean eyes were concentrated, searching and then they widened slightly. It was as if he had found an answer to his unasked question just by searching the clone's face. "No, they weren't stormtroopers… but… clone troopers…?" His gaze flitted over the officer again. "And… you're one too. I can sense it."

Delirium? Amnesia? Kix wasn't quite certain, but he was quite certain that he needed to sedate his general before he further harmed himself or others.

"Yes, General, CT-6116. Kix." The clone explained slowly, hesitantly. "Remember?"

" _General_?" Anakin repeated, looking more confused than ever. His eyes searched again and then widened further. "You think I'm…"

The medbay doors suddenly slid open again; and three figures rushed into the room. Two of the figures, unsurprisingly, were Rex and Cody. And the third—

"Anakin, what in the world do you think you're doing?" Came Obi-Wan Kenobi's exasperated shout. The Jedi General, robes still billowing from his entrance, stood in front of the two high-ranking officers with a steady yet concerned expression.

Anakin paused, turned, froze, studied, and seemed to realize something that was apparently very shocking. He pulled back ever so slightly, before a word slipped from his lips—

" _Ben_?"

Obi-wan frowned, raising a placating hand just as Kix himself had done.

Kix didn't think his General Skywalker's eyes could widen any further, but they did as Kenobi drew closer. Kix, however, didn't think much on it, because he had a more pressing matter to attend to.

"Wait…" Skywalker mumbled, shaking his head slightly, his eyes full of confusion. "Ben… _Anakin_? my fath…" His eyes flitted over his master's form, before his gaze locked onto something that was behind him. "I can't believe it…"

And then Kix, tranquilizer in hand, was on him. The former plunged the needle of the tranquilizer into the crook of the latter's neck before he slammed down the plunger. The effect was almost instantaneous — eyes snapped back into the head, followed by a snap of the body as it fell backward.

Kix caught Anakin as the man fell limply into his arms. And as he held him there (adrenaline was still coursing through his veins — he'd just sedated a _Jedi_ after all), he found himself joined by a deeply troubled Obi-wan, a perturbed looking Cody, and a grim Rex. With some effort, they lugged the larger man back onto the medbed and then stood observing him.

There was uneasiness in the air.

"What in the world was that?" Cody finally muttered, taking off his helmet and tucking it under his arm. "The way he was looking at us…"

"Yeah," Rex hummed in agreement. His expression was tight. "It's the way the General looks at droids."

"It could be the head trauma. Got his mind and memories all confused. I've seen it before." Kix informed them. "Whether it's long-lasting or temporary… well, we can't really be sure until he wakes up and I give him a full bio scan back on Coruscant"

Another pause.

The three clones remained silent and waiting — waiting for Obi-wan to say something, to give an order, to detail his opinion. The man in question, however, remained silent. His clear eyes were locked onto Anakin's face, his mouth was set into a firm frown, and his left hand held his chin firmly. They had never seen him so… unnerved before.

"Cody, Rex, I want you to report back to the command center. Make sure we arrive back on Coruscant as scheduled. I will remain here with Kix."

And that was that.

After some further exchanges, the captain and commander departed from the room.

As soon as they left, Kix immediately returned to his rounds and began to check up on the other injured soldiers in the bay. It was several minutes later that he returned to his General's bedside; and he found himself curiously eyeing Kenobi who was now sitting in an almost meditative position on a stray chair pulled up next to the bed (Kix assumed he was doing something Jedi-like using the Force, so he didn't question it). The man's eyes were closed, his breathing calm.

Kix cleared his throat. "His vitals check out, General…" He paused, hesitant, narrow-eyed. "... but you think it's something else…"

Kenobi cracked open an eye and glanced up at him. "Anakin and I felt a disturbance in the Force during the battle. I fear that Anakin has gotten himself into trouble again." A pause. "Whatever that disturbance was…. it may have given rise to his current condition."

* * *

anomaly 03

— _the voice says —_

_FIND THE DISTURBANCE. RECTIFY THE WRONG. FIX THE ANOMALY. BRING BALANCE TO THE PAST SO THE FORCE MAY BE BALANCED IN THE FUTURE._

_And then, with the words still ringing in his ears, the voice adds —_

_YOUNG LUKE, I WISH YOU AND YOUR COMPANIONS LUCK._

_And the floor falls away beneath him._


	2. 002: Getting Together, 5%

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Skywalkers try to adapt to a bad situation with gusto, sass, and bad acting.

anomaly 04

_He hates sand — it's rough, course, irritating, and it gets everywhere; but it also reminds him of Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru — of home — so the grainy feel of it underneath his palm only gives rise to nostalgia._

* * *

He was quite proficient at laying, but terribly deficient at lying. He knew this for a fact from his own observations as well as the observations of his friends.

"Kid," one of his friends had said, patting him on his shoulder in a boyish way, "you're too honest for your own good."

And he had found at the time that he couldn't deny his friend's statement.

So when Luke Skywalker drifted into a state of wakefulness in the medbay of a place unknown to him for the second time that day, he kept his eyes shut, his breathing steady, and his body still. Masterfully _laying_. Masterfully laying, so he would not have to miserably fail at not-so-masterfully lying.

And lying about what?

Lying about the fact that he — Luke Skywalker — had somehow ended up in the body of his late father Anakin Skywalker in his youth. He had not realized the fact soon enough, unfortunately, and had acted too rashly prior to the revelation. It was actually quite disheartening to him that he had let his rashness and instincts get the better of him — he was one of the last Jedi of his time, after all. And yet here he was having been sedated because he had mistaken clone troopers for storm troopers and acted rather — he groaned internally — _rashly_.

To be fair — he thought to himself — he hadn't had much time to really _understand_ his situation and predicament before he was so roughly thrown into it. A confusingly absurd predicament. He'd only had a message from a unknown person to go off of—

'FIND THE DISTURBANCE. RECTIFY THE WRONG. FIX THE ANOMALY. BRING BALANCE TO THE PAST SO THAT THE FORCE MAY BE BALANCED IN THE FUTURE.'

— and that message hadn't been very clear or revealing at all.

'Past' and 'present'? Well, Luke supposed _that_ made sense. The past being _here_ on this apparently Republic warship smack in the middle of the clone wars; and the present being back _there_ on Endor.

But what was the 'anomaly'? What was the 'error'? What needed rectifying?

And…

And…

And why in the world did the Force send him crashing into the past in the body of his _father_?

His father—

Luke had to take several seconds to calm himself as he recalled the instant he realized that he had somehow ended up wearing his father's form. It was right after Obi-wan — the man had looked so youthful, so bright, so curious that Luke almost swore and fainted right on the spot — had stormed into the room. While Luke had been attempting to piece everything together, he by chance had caught a glimpse of his face — no, his _father's_ face — from the reflection of a glass pane behind the older Jedi's head. It was a face he'd only seen a glimpse of in spectral form right after the battle of Endor, but it was a face that he could not forget. His father's face…

He'd always hoped to see his father's face again — alive and well — but not… not like this. Definitely not like this. This was just, well… _weird_ ….

Weird and disappointing.

Had it all been a mistake somehow?

No… the Force didn't 'make' mistakes. Everything was meant to be — cause and effect. But… why in the world…

Luke swallowed a sigh.

Leave it to the Force to be mysterious—

Luke paused mid thought as his mind drifted towards the people who had been in his room with him back on Endor before his debacle. Leia and Han. Their peaceful, sleeping forms were still burned into the back of his head.

'YOU **AND** YOUR COMPANIONS'

It took him every fiber of his being to prevent himself from snapping up and calling — shouting — out their names. After all, there was no explanation for that added address other than the fact that Leia and Han had been swept up in the ordeal as well…. Right?

If that was true… where in the world were they?

After several more minutes of ruminating and agonizing and reaching outwards for the two with the Force, Luke decided that there was no use in the ruminating and agonizing and reaching. If they were in any sort of danger, he would definitely feel it; and if he felt it, he'd definitely do something about it. But as for now — now was not the time.

With his thoughts now mostly in order, Luke allowed his thoughts to switch from inwards to outwards. And slowly, he became aware of his surroundings.

He was laying down — this, he already knew — on something firm yet cold. _A bed, obviously_ , he thought as he felt stiff cushion press beneath his palm and back.

_Weird_ —

He couldn't feel the stiff press of the bed in his left arm, but he most definitely did have a left arm. He could feel it — cold against the warmth up his upper arm. He decided, however, that that was a problem for later and continued to expand his senses outwards.

The air was stale yet rich — the kind of paradoxical air quality one would only be able to find on planets in the outer rim or in well-ventilated spaceships. There was a slightly sterile scent in the air too — the sharp smells of antiseptics, alcohol, and bacta fluid all intermingled together.

_So_ , Luke thought as he frowned internally, _I'm in a medical room on a ship — and it's probably the room I woke up and went Leia-style in._ He paused, searching his memories as well as evaluating the tingling in his toes and fingers. _And… I was definitely sedated. Okay._

He tuned his ears.

Steady, mechanical, monotone beeping droned in the background beneath the hum of air ventilators. There was shuffling, metal clacking, and the airy flutter of papers to his left. Someone was moving around in that direction — moving around quite busily. Maybe it was that attending clone doctor — what was his name? CT-something? No — Kicks? Kix? Yes, it definitely _felt_ like a Kix.

He felt someone to his right as well. A familiar someone. That familiar someone radiated with calming waves of the Force that Luke recognized as characteristic of someone who was in deep concentration. Yes, that familiar someone was _concentrating_ very, very hard on _something_ with a sort of determination that reminded Luke of Leia.

Luke frowned inwardly again. Felt that familiar someone again. He paused uncertain before realization dawned on him.

It wasn't concentration that he'd felt; it was _meditation_. And that wasn't a some _thing_ that the familiar person was meditating on; it was a some _one_.

Luke could feel it. The familiar person was reaching out towards him with the Force — examining him, looking him over.

_Not good._

Reflexively, Luke strengthened the shields within his mind. And also reflexively but mostly regrettably, he flinched ever so slightly. It was an almost subtle and unnoticeable movement. Almost.

"He's waking up."

Luke's heart skipped a beat that was so long that for a moment he thought his heart had gone missing.

_No, I'm not,_ he internally snapped, almost pleaded.

For a moment he considered just laying there and lying about his wakefulness. The next moment had him ridiculously considering utilizing an underhanded Jedi mind trick. But of course that wouldn't work with _that_ familiar person sitting at his right. He then pondered just letting loose with the truth—

"Hello, I'm not Anakin Skywalker. I'm actually Luke Skywalker, his son. I'm from the future, you see. That's why I sent your clone troopers flying. I'm really sorry about that by the way. It's just that they look a lot like stormtroopers… What are stormtroopers? Well, you see — hey, please put the syringe away. I don't want to be sedated again — ack!"

— but he sensed that that was not what the Force wanted him to do. _That_ and he was quite sure it would turn out horribly in his favor.

So with ample choices left, Luke decided to… wing it.

_Here goes nothing,_ he thought to himself.

Slowly, sluggishly, he let out a groan and drew himself up on the bed he was laying on. He cracked open his eyes. Blinked once and then twice. Groaned again as the blinding light of the room seared its way into the back of his head and left a terrible _pound, pound, pound_ in its wake. The terrible pounding was soon joined by a storm of nausea that bubbled at the pit of his stomach—

— and Luke was left uncertain on whether or not he was grateful that he didn't have to pretend to feel utterly awful.

He doubled over as his head and vision swam — white blurred into black blurred into white again. And at the very edge of his swimming vision, two shadows shifted, moved. Two hands eased him upright.

"Woah, sir, easy now. Take it slow." said the owner of the easing hands.

Luke blinked rapidly to clear his vision and made out a very concerned and stern dark face from the blinding white light. It was a face that was lined with age, stress, and something else that Luke couldn't quite place. This was a face that Luke had seen before.

"Kix…" Luke tried, gripping his head and biting his lip. "What happened…?"

_I hope his name is actually Kix…_

The man drew back. His expression was still filled with concern but it was slightly less stern. Luke took this as a good sign.

_Thank god I was right.?_

"We were hoping you could explain that to us." Came another voice, crisp and elegant with an undeniable Coruscanti cadence. "You gave us quite the scare."

Luke's gaze shifted to where the second voice had originated. And as his eyes adjusted to the whiteness and brightness of the room, he made out the slender, dignified form of _that_ familiar person — his former teacher Ben Kenobi. Obi-wan Kenobi, rather.

The Obi-wan Kenobi who stood before him was nothing like the Ben Kenobi in his memories. For one, the man before him was _ginger_. Ginger and young and frowning with a spark of coyness — mischief, even — in his eyes. His eyes. They glimmered with this sort of cerulean youthful hope and blue vigor and azure softness that had been missing in Luke's Ben. Worn out, probably, by years of loneliness. Still, Luke was amazed by this Obi-wan — so amazed that it took every fiber of his being not to break out into a stupid grin—

"Anakin?" Obi-wan pressed, arms now crossed and frown now deepening. "Is there something on my face?"

Luke flinched as he realized that — much to his chagrin — he had not put enough effort into suppressing a stupid grin. Biting his lip again, he cradled his head and let out a grunt which he hoped was not too dramatic.

_What am I doing? This is painful._

"Nothing… I'm just really confused." Luke grimaced — and truly, he was. He brought his left hand up to his head for dramatic measure and winced at the cold touch of what felt like steel. "I was on the battlefield… I don't really remember what happened."

— not far from the truth.

"You were caught up in an explosion, sir." Kix explained. "Got a concussion." A frown. "Do you remember anything after that?"

"No." Luke said — lied — a little too quickly. He cleared his throat, tried to channel what little he knew of his father. "Why? Is there something to remember?"

"Well, I'd hope so." Obi-wan finally spoke. He sounded like he was torn between amusement and worry. "You woke up a while earlier and blew Rex and Cody straight out of the room. They couldn't have upset you that badly, could they?"

Luke blinked in surprise. He was surprised at the coyness, the sharpness in his former master's tone. The man had always been so serious, so calm, so wise as Luke knew him. It was so _weird_ …

He quickly shook the lingering shock off and cleared his throat again.

"I what?" Luke shook his head in surprise, although he felt a pang of guilt at the memory. He then asked earnestly, "Are they alright?"

"A bit bruised and confused, but no harm done." Obi-wan replied. He rubbed his chin in a familiar way that almost made Luke smile again. "We're more concerned about you, Anakin."

At the statement, Luke felt his gaze drop. The word "concern" rung in his ears.

"... _but most of all_ ," his Kenobi had told him, " _he was a good friend_." Luke frowned slightly. _So they_ _ **were**_ _really close before—_

He shook the interfering, unneeded thoughts away and returned his attention to his former master.

"— ore the detonator went off in the battlefield," Obi-wan continued. "... there was a disturbance in the Force. I think it had to do with your _erratic_ behavior earlier."

_It wasn't that erratic,_ Luke thought to himself slightly embarrassed. _It was defensively… erratic — I'm just glad no one was hurt._ His thoughts then drifted towards the disturbance Obi-wan spoke of. _A disturbance… was that me?_

Luke cleared his throat _again_ after he realized he'd paused longer in thought than Anakin would have. Not that he would have known. He hadn't really gotten to know his father in the end.

_Focus._

"Disturbance?" Luke feigned a frown. He shook his head again, felt the bandages wrapped around it with his _cold_ hand. "I don't remember a disturbance."

Obi-wan's brows raised. He rubbed his chin. "I see..."

There was a long pause of silence.

_I guess that means I should've said something,_ Luke grimaced inwardly. _They said my father was in the middle of battle so—_

"Did we win?"

Kix looked at Obi-wan. Obi-wan looked at Kix. Kix smiled. Obi-wan sighed.

"Of course, sir." Kix answered crisply. He stood straighter as he answered, and there was a glimmer of pride in his eye. "The 501st Legion always comes out of battles victorious."

"501st Legion…" Luke repeated under his breath. The word felt familiar on his tongue, and it carried with it a dry taste. He just didn't know why.

"Uh…" Kix cleared his throat this time. "If you don't recall sir… we're heading back to Coruscant, right now."

Coruscant — the Imperial Capital. No, the _former_ Imperial Capital in his time. The soon-to-be New Republic capital, maybe, if things continued to go in their favor.

Luke had always wondered what the city had looked like in its prime — without Imperial flags fluttering above every skyscraper, without stardestroyers clouding its horizon.

"Yes," Obi-wan nodded in affirmation in the absence of Luke's response. His blue glaze was still studying, observing, concentrating. "We'll be arriving quite shortly, actually."

Luke almost squirmed under the gaze. There was a strange pressure at the back of his mind, however, that pushed away the squeamish feeling. It was an uncomfortable press which made his already pounding head pound even harder.

"General Skywalker, I think you should rest until we get there," Kix interjected, after observing Luke's obvious grimace. "Then we can check you into the medical facility on Coruscant and see if I missed anything."

"No, I'm fine," Luke replied a little too quickly, and he ended up shaking his head a little bit too quickly too. The room spun for a bit. "I… want to see us land."

— and he really did. He also wanted to evaluate his situation fully. When, where, why, how.

"With all due respect, General, with your injuries — especially with your head. Concussions, you see — they can sometimes come with memory loss as you see with yourself and extreme personality changes so—"

"I really am fine, Kix," Luke reassured the officer whom he was now beginning to warm to. "Injuries never stopped me before, have they?" He had stated the rhetorical question a bit more cockily than he'd wanted to, but—

— the concern and uncertainty that had been on the medical officer's face melded into a more trained expression, and Obi-wan's concentrated gaze was briefly replaced by a flabbergasted overtone —

— apparently 'cocky' was synonymous to Anakin Skywalker. Luke jotted this discovery down both for future reference and for personal reasons.

With that matter settled (at least in his opinion it was settled), Luke swung himself off of the medbed and tried his best not to faceplant on the floor immediately after. He flashed what he hoped was an Anakin-Skywalker-cocky grin at his former master, before he turned to Kix and added reassuringly, "I'll check myself into a facility as soon as we touch down in Coruscant." He paused, glancing around and patting himself down a bit too dramatically. "It seems as if I misplaced my lightsaber…"

Obi-wan unfolded his arms and revealed a familiar object in hand. "We worried you might start using your lightsaber next instead of the Force."

Luke stared at the lightsaber for a moment. Stared long and hard. Traced the black grooves and silver plating of the weapon — the weapon that he had lost along with his hand in Cloudcity. His father's lightsaber.

"I can't say I blame you," was all he said as he took it in hand. It was much heavier than he remembered — probably because his own green-bladed lightsaber weighed much less in reality.

He clipped it — embarrassingly with slight effort — to his belt and followed Obi-wan out of the room and into the halls.

* * *

Luke had always known he was a bit on the short side —

" _Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?"_

— and he'd long ago come to realize that his father was unusually tall. When he had first come across his father — back when he'd only known him as Darth Vader, murderer of Anakin Skywalker — Luke had attributed the man's mammoth and eclipsing ebony figure to his intimidating aura. When Luke had encountered his father several times after that, he'd realized that he'd only been partially correct. Yes, Vader's apparent looming height was somewhat attributed to the intimidating aura that he'd carried around with him as often as he carried his dark cape; but, Vader — _Anakin_ — was also absurdly tall for a human. Taller than Luke ever hoped to be. Accursed genetics.

And that was why when Luke followed a quiet and speculating Obi-wan into the command center of the ship, he did not duck his head under the pipeline that jutted out haphazardly just behind the doorway. Yes, he saw the gunmetal-colored devil with his eyes; and yes, he could feel its presence and obstruction with the Force. But he was "too short to be a stormtrooper" after all and marched forward in deep thought and —

CLANG!

— an uncomfortable sound echoed through the hull of the ship as bone met steel.

Luke stumbled backward with a swallowed yelp. He grimaced as he rubbed his now swollen forehead and grimaced even more deeply as the pounding in his head doubled tenfold.

"Do watch where you're going, Anakin."

Luke lowered his hand and found Obi-wan studying him with raised brows. Yes, this Obi-wan was definitely more comical and coy than his Ben.

He shrugged half-heartedly in response and followed the man to the center of the room. A control panel table stood there seemingly out of place in the chaotic bustle of its surroundings — gray-dressed identical men muttering to themselves and each other as they ran in, out, and around the room. Buttons flashed, papers fluttered, leather shoes clipped against the glossy floor of the ship. Behind the control panel was a large window that stretched along the frontside of the ship; and behind that window, the bright white streaks of hyperspace flitted past.

The whole set up reminded Luke vaguely of an Imperial stardestroyer.

"Generals," one of the two men standing by the panel greeted them with a respectfully curt nod of his head.

This man was nearly physically identical to the other man standing beside the panel. The only differences seemed to be that his head was not completely shaved and there were dapples of yellow on his _clone_ trooper armor. That and the trooper _felt_ completely different from the one standing next to him — the one who was wearing armor that was tinged with blue, the one who was studying him intently. It was amazing how different they felt despite their doppelganger appearance—

Luke shook his head. His thoughts straightened and reordered themselves.

"Sorry… about earlier." Luke apologized earnestly to the two.

"No worries, General," the blue-armored one replied quickly. "We're built tougher than that…. Is everything alright, sir?"

_Not exactly._

"I'm on my feet." Luke answered honestly. He turned his attention to the control panel — eyed the numbers and letters and names that flitted across the screen. "So, the battle — the mission…? My memory is a bit off."

"Right, sir," the yellow one cleared his throat. "Well…"

Luke listened with intent as the clone officer — Obi-wan had briefly addressed him as 'Cody' — debriefed him on their current circumstance. A won battle in the field. Minimal casualties. A defended planet was now offering its aid to the Republic. The believed whereabouts of a lightsaber-wielding cyborg and a _Sith_ named Count Dooku.

Luke had started in surprise at the drop of the word 'Sith'. He'd thought he was done dealing with them and the like, but that apparently was not the case. Well, he was in the past after all. He'd probably be dealing with the Sith Lord Sidious as well.

Shaking the momentary shock off, he spent several moments wracking his brain for the places and people Cody mentioned in his report. Much to his chagrin, he found himself realizing that he should have read more deeply into the history holos his uncle had given him to read back on the moisture farm — not that the history holos would have been completely accurate. The Empire had twisted many history holos and tweaked many news reports in their favor, after all. Even so, maybe if he'd paid more attention to the holos back then he'd be able to figure out what 'anomaly' he was supposed to be fixing _now_. After all, the only anomaly he could really identify thus far was himself.

_Maybe if I meditate later..._

Absentmindedly, he clenched and unclenched his unfeeling left hand. He peeked down at it, eyed its dark blue surface which glinted in the dull overhead lights.

_I wonder how he lost it…?_

Metal — the arm was definitely made of metal, cybernetics, copper wires, and the like. Biotechnology was obviously not too advanced during this time period — unless it _was_ , and his father just enjoyed the cold press of steel against his upper arm. Not likely.

What was likely — or from what Luke had deduced from Cody's report — was that he was about twenty or so years in the past. Only about a year or less before the decline of the Republic. Before the rise of the Empire. Before the fall of his father evidently.

He started at the thought, eyes widening, head pounding — _maybe…_

"—ral _Skywalker_?"

Luke snapped to attention at the familiar address and looked up from his steel hand. Obi-wan, Cody, and the blue one stared back at him.

"Sorry, what?"

There were frowns. Luke frowned internally in response.

"You seem distracted, sir." The blue one stated, albeit a bit hesitantly. "Maybe it'd be best if you go back to the medbay and rest. Clear your head."

Just as the statement was made, however, the white pinpricks of hyperspace pulled away into blackness behind the ship's window. A large planet loomed ahead. Its landmasses glittered and gleamed even from afar. It looked like a large black orb lined with intricate spider-web cracks that leaked out silver and gold glassy light, twinkling and winking. Ships of all shapes and sizes blinked in and out off the planet's orbit which in the end left a sort of electrified reverberation in the air. Needless to say, it put Cloudcity to shame.

So much flow of life, so much activity, so much of everything binding and tying into everything.

This place, Luke realized, was strong in the Force —

No, that wasn't quite right. This place held within its glowing cracks and crevices _people_ , _places_ , and _things_ that were strong in the Force. He could almost see it in his mind's eye — stone spires scratching at the sky; a quiet marble courtyard filled with ambling children and adults in robes; a man cloaked in shadows hunched over a large desk in an ornate and open room; a young woman standing with numerous blasters pointed at her as she—

_Leia?!_

She was there, there on Coruscant.

A hand gripped his shoulder and pulled Luke out of his daze. It was Obi-wan, his face now once again wrinkled with concern. Behind him stood the blue one — his face was also wrinkled with seriousness. Their expressions made guilt scratch inside Luke's chest. He — as Anakin — was worrying them.

_I need to get this act together!_ Luke thought reprimandingly to himself; but his head was pounding, his stomach was bubbling, and the room was spinning.

"Sir," blue guy said, "we've landed."

Luke blinked in surprise and glanced out the port window. Beyond the glass pane unfolded a silver landing platform that was crawling with people, astromechs, and cargo lifts. The sky above the lift was dappled with rosy pinkness and mellow orangeness.

"Anakin," Obi-wan said slowly almost as if he were talking to a child , "I want you to go check yourself into the nearest medical facility. I'm going to send Rex with you to make sure you don't end up going on any of your _usual_ adventures. I'll go report to the Council myself."

_**Rex**_ , Luke tried the word over in his mind. For some reason, it sounded familiar. He glanced back at blue guy — now deemed Rex — and studied him a bit more carefully. Rex, in turn, observed him with scrutiny.

"Sure thing, Be — Obi-wan..." Luke cleared his throat, returning his gaze to the other Jedi; before he tried again. " _Master_."

Of course, Luke had no desire to follow through with Obi-wan's request. Little did he know that he would be paralleling his father quite closely because of this. But this was not on his mind. He needed to find his sister, his sister whom he could _feel_ was ambling around and causing mayhem _somewhere_ on the city planet.

* * *

anomaly 05

_No one quite knows Anakin Skywalker like Obi-wan Kenobi knows Anakin Skywalker; and Obi-wan himself does not know everything about Anakin Skywalker. Obi-wan isn't quite sure whether or not Anakin Skywalker even knows everything about Anakin Skywalker._

_Obi-wan does know, however, that Anakin Skywalker is very talented and very skilled. His talent can be seen through the way he twists his lightsaber this way and that in an arc of blue; and his skill can be seen through the way the Force seems to bend in, through, and around his entire being with just a thought in his mind._

_Obi-wan also knows that Anakin Skywalker is sharp — sharp in mind, sharp in wit, sharp in tongue. Sharp in confidence and sometimes arrogance as well. And most importantly Anakin Skywalker is sharp in the way he cares for those around him._

_This Anakin Skywalker Obi-wan knows._

_The Anakin Skywalker who radiates calmness, introspection, introversion? The one who observes everything and everyone quietly with analyzing eyes? Who responds to sarcastic quips and quizzical jabs with only raised brows and a quirked smile?_

_**That** _ _Anakin Skywalker, Obi-wan isn't quite sure if he knows._

* * *

Leia Organa was most definitely not ambling around and causing mayhem on Coruscant. No, she was not. Rather, she found herself coming to on a maroon tile floor that contrasted greatly with the moss bed she recalled falling asleep on. The air was different too. The air smelled of gasoline and metal — quite the contrast to the thick smoky woodland smell she had fallen asleep to on Endor.

Had she… been captured? Possibly by stray Imperial soldiers? In her sleep of all things? How… _infuriating_.

Grimacing, Leia pulled herself up off of the cold floor and did a quick sweep of her surroundings. The marble floor stretched out to four ornately decorated walls; and a long velvet red couch sat only a couple of feet away beneath a retro yet ornate chandelier — the kind her father was fond of, the kind which was made of twisted metal and lined with petal-shaped bulbs, the kind that was "very popular in the old Republic day now, Leia". Yes, Bail had been very fond of them — almost obsessed — and had had them placed in nearly every room in their palace back on Alderaan.

She paused for a moment and allowed her eyes to become misty. One, two, three — done. She breathed in deeply, let out a shaky breath, and dabbed away the tears from her eyes. And then she continued to survey her surroundings with steady eyes.

The place looked too extravagant and clean to be an Imperial holding cell. It looked too extravagant and clean to be a rebel holding room as well. Then, where…?

A large pair of chrome sliding doors loomed on the west wall; and on the east wall sat a large work desk piled high with numerous holodisks. And… was that a pair of feet sticking out just beneath the desk? A groan emitted from behind it as if for confirmation.

Brusquely and quietly, Leia made her way over to the front of the desk. She grabbed a holodisk from its surface and gripped it tight in her hands. Raising the disk above her head, she slid behind the desk and—

"Han?"

The holodisk slid out of her hands and clattered noisily onto the marble floor.

She swept down to the floor herself and drew close to the stirring man whom she was formerly about to brutalize with a holodisk. He was sweaty and dirty — his brown curls were flecked with dirt and his shirt and pants smudged with stains — but her gaze on him was soft, kind, and warm nonetheless. She tapped his chin lightly.

"Han…"

Her face eclipsed the man's own; and stray locks of hair fell from behind her ear and tickled the man's chin. The tickling stirred the man further and his eyes fluttered open. He registered her, traced her features with his eyes, and then quirked a smile.

"I didn't take you for this heavy of a sleeper, Han." she responded in turn, lips also quirked into a smile.

"I didn't take that you'd look this beautiful in the morning." He quipped back at her, pulling his head up close.

She smiled and rolled her eyes before she pulled back from him coyly. "I didn't take you for a poet — and I was right."

Leia drew herself up back on her feet and offered Han a hand. He took it — his hands were firm and strong — and pulled himself off the ground before he glanced around their surroundings in confusion. A grimace soon followed.

"Didn't think they'd have fancy places like this here on Endor." He muttered, squaring his shoulders with hands on hip. His gaze flicked around again. "Great welcoming committee."

"Well, Han," Leia drew, glancing back at him, "that just means we're not on Endor anymore."

"Then where the hell are we?"

He asked such a question — a question that was on her mind as well — aloud as he began pacing around the room. The click, clack of his leather shoes against the cold marble floor was loud in the quiet and unsettling.

Leia watched him and his gait for a moment before she bent down and picked up the holodisk off of the floor. She turned it over in hand and felt for the power button. It was an older model — she realized — and it took several seconds for it to boot up and flicker to life. As she waited, she threw a quick glance in Han's direction. The man was eyeing the chrome sliding door with suspicion—

_Hmmz._

The holodisk hummed and buzzed and lit up with blue. Her gaze flicked back to the device.

Numerous newscast articles — or so it appeared — all stored into a single log. Archived by rotation apparently — very neat and orderly.

She skimmed the logs.

Glowing letters, names, and numbers flitted past her; and she found that all of those glowing letters, names, and numbers seemed to focus on a single person in particular:

The eponymous "Hero with No Fear".

Strange. She'd never heard of a person carrying such a title; and she'd heard of everyone, everything, everywhere. It was her job, her duty, after all.

Frowning deeper Leia selected the second latest article and began to read it through thoroughly:

_BREAKING NEWS: Another victory for the Republic! Jedi General of 501st Legion sweeps Separatist lines on the planet of—_

Leia's eyes widened.

Impossible.

Republic. Jedi General. Separatist. Old words, marred and twisted by Imperial propaganda. Words that her father had only mentioned in passing. Words that were spoken of almost dreamily, wistfully.

Her eyes shot up to the date hovering at the corner of the article. She placed a finger on it causing the numbers — the day and month — to flicker and then return. The year appeared right next to those floating numbers. The year—

Impossible. Impossible, but—

_BRING BALANCE TO THE PAST SO THAT THE FORCE MAY BE BALANCED IN THE FUTURE._

The holodisk nearly slipped from her fingers.

Leia whipped her head in Han's direction just as the man moved to press open the chrome doors. A shout of "Han, wait!" was lodged in her throat — lodged because it was too late. The doors were open, but they had not been opened by any of Han's actions. No, the woman who stood in the arch of the doorway, who was wrapped in extravagant garments of purple and maroon, who held in her hand a holodisk that was nearly identical to the holodisk in Leia's hand — this woman was the one who pressed open the chrome doors. And when the woman registered Han's form looming before her, she gasped, took a step back, and reached for something at her waist that wasn't there.

"We're," Han said, clearing his throat and grinning suavely without skipping a beat, "room service."

Leia nearly threw the holodisk in her hands at him.

The woman, on the other hand, took another step back. Threw a glance over her shoulder.

"Guards!"

And in less than a second following a storm of leather boots against marble, Leia and Han found themselves surrounded by pointed blasters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not to beat a dead horse but.... i'd really appreciate it if you'd [ check out my fantasy web serial! ](https://sixchances.home.blog/)


	3. 003: Important People, 8%

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia, stop flirting with your family members! Luke, stop fanboying! Han, good luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays!

anomaly 06

" _My master once told me: 'Anakin, this weapon is your life.'"_

— _a story told many times to many people in many different places for many different reasons. The story is a passing one — told sometimes during lessons within the concrete walls of a temple, sometimes during meals in a wide dining hall that is more empty than full, sometimes during a private exchange in a senatorial office with a rose-colored backdrop, and sometimes even during the muck of post-battle rain shower beside a smoking campfire._

_Everyone who hears the story knows that Anakin Skywalker — save for a one time exception — carries his lightsaber around with him like it is his heart. Regardless of the time of day or light of occasion, the kyber-crystal-powered weapon is always at his side._

_After missions, he will wipe down the grime, the muck, and dirt from its crevices; and, with only a rag and some oil, he will shine away the blackened stains of blaster- scorch marks from its edges. And after he does all of these things, he will — of course — clip his weapon [his life] to his right where he can reach for it in the blink of an eye. But—_

_Today — a select few notice — he clips it on his left._

* * *

Captain Rex of the 501st Legion was very well acquainted with battle injuries, especially traumas of the head. In fact, he had both a friendly and unfriendly relationship with those types of injuries in particular. "Friendly", as in he and his men had gotten quite a few of them over the years. "Unfriendly", as in he personally thought they were one of the worst to get in the field. Getting a broken arm or leg wasn't so bad. In the end, after the injury, you were still the same person. A head injury was different. Very different. Kix had told him one time that he'd hated dealing with head injuries the most because they were unpredictable, sometimes untreatable, and undeniably difficult to handle. Made the person who had the injury difficult to handle sometimes even. But injuries were injuries — common in war; and war itself was war.

General Skywalker was very privy to this kind of information — this Captain Rex of the 501st knew. But Skywalker had received an injury — a _head_ injury — on the battlefield; and it was making him difficult and unpredictable — not difficult and unpredictable in Rex's books, however, because he was well acquainted with Skywalker's "difficultness" and "unpredictability". General Mace Windu even said once that Skywalker was synonymous with those words. Rex personally thought that those traits made _his_ General an effective and efficient soldier. A well-rounded leader. Very likable, even.

But _this_ — this was different. _This_ was not the "difficultness" and "unpredictability" that General Windu had said that Anakin Skywalker was synonymous with. This was—

"General." Rex cleared his throat again with the word for the fifth time that minute. For the fifth time that minute, he was ignored by the man walking a foot ahead of him.

The alleyway they were walking down was not exactly quiet nor a good place to have conversation, so maybe it wasn't so much a case of "ignoring" but rather a case of "not hearing". It was amazing that even in small backwater alleyways like these Coruscant gleamed like no other planet in the galaxy. Copper-backed caravans and silver store stalls glistened along the stone metal walls of the alley; and small speeders squeezed through the whispering crowds that suffocated the narrow walkway. Very efficient how everything worked — fit together like parts a well-oiled machine. Talk there. Deal here. Pass by there. Move aside here.

General Skywalker seemed to be oddly impressed by it all. His cerulean gaze flicked left and right and up and down, while a faint and almost fascinated smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Every so often his smile would disappear, his eyes would search, his pace would quicken; and he would almost disappear into the crowd.

Maybe—

"General _Skywalker_." Rex repeated, this time reaching out and grabbing the man by the shoulder.

Anakin jumped, paused in place, turned. His eyes searched, but he didn't speak — merely raised a brow.

"Er, _sir_ ," the Captain continued; and he paused, jerking his head back in the opposite direction, "the nearest medical facility is _that_ way."

Anakin, eyebrows scrunched and lips pursed ever so slightly, stared back at him for a moment. Glanced back over his shoulder. Frowned. Finally, he took in a deep breath and said, "I… know a shortcut." A pause; another glance. "You don't have to escort me, Rex. I know you have better and more important things to do."

"More important than your health and safety, sir?" Rex responded with brow raised. "The squadron needs you at your sharpest. I'll see you there myself. It's fine really." He pause before adding as if for clarity or perhaps for humor: "With all due respect, of course."

Skywalker gave him a strange look. It was a strange look that Rex couldn't quite decipher — and Rex was very good at deciphering his General's expressions. He _had_ to be skilled in that area. Missions would go south otherwise.

Was it a "that was an order" look? Perhaps an "I'm very annoyed" look? Or maybe even a "you're acting like Obi-wan" expression?

No. Negative. Incorrect.

A hand was placed on Rex's shoulder — a smile, offered. "You know, Rex, you're very kind; and I admire your loyalty, but..." Suddenly, another hand was raised and was waved lightly, almost dreamily, through the air. "... you don't have to accompany me to the medical facility."

Now, Jedi mind tricks had always sort of fascinated the Captain — fascinated him in the sense that he saw them as a useful and powerful war tool. If you could just force your enemy to surrender with just a push of a thought, then…?

Yes, Jedi mind tricks had always sort of fascinated Rex. He'd been fascinated with them ever since the Separatist Sith Asajj Ventress had tried to push a traitorous thought into his mind at the Battle of Christophsis. He had felt the push of "the Force" back then — the brush of something heavy and foreboding and dictatorial against his mind — just like he felt it now.

Rex, needless to say, was taken aback. Uncertain. Definitely more motivated to escort his General to a medical facility now. "Sir… did you just try to use a mind trick on me?"

Skywalker even looked surprised at his own actions — or maybe was it the result of his actions that he was surprised at. His eyes had widened slightly and his lips almost parted into a full 'O'. The Jedi then pulled back quickly, smoothly and flashed a grin that did not match any of the grins Rex recalled his General making. "It was a joke, Rex."

A joke.

His General did definitely joke around. More so during the beginning of the war. Not so much now.

But he still joked.

But this didn't seem like—

— a joke.

"Of course, sir," Rex responded thickly, eyebrow raised. "A joke."

A commotion broke out suddenly at the mouth of the alley prompting Anakin to make a dash in the direction. (At least _that_ behavior was within the books.) Rex himself was then prompted to chase after him.

They broke through the crowd clogging the mouth of the alleyway and filtered out onto the bustling streets. They were only one or two clicks away from the Senatorial apartments, Rex realized, and he could see the metal-plated tip of the apartment complex glinting off the rosy sunset in the distance.

Unsurprisingly, Rex could spot several eloquently- dressed and even more so eloquently _poised_ officials ambling through the crowd. Accompanied by guards, of course. Guards whose mere presence seemed to part the crowd like waves.

A familiar head bobbled up and down in the crowd. A friend. And just ahead of that friend marched a dozen Republic guards who seemed to have formed a fortress — a jail, rather — around two individuals bound in cuffs. A woman and a man or so it appeared.

Knowing that Anakin's mood always seemed to brighten in the presence of that particular friend, Rex spared him a glance.

Nothing.

Nothing, but an eerie sort of calculating, analytical calm. The wires, circuits, conduits in the man's head were sparking, the gears and cogs turning. Thinking, thinking, deeply submerged in his thoughts. Revealing nothing.

"Rex," the Jedi whispered suddenly under his breath; his eyes flicked to the jail of guards and then back to the woman walking behind them, "what do you think happened?"

The question didn't seem like his General's usual rhetorical quips of sarcasm, so Rex answered, "Well, sir, I'd reckon that those two over there were found trespassing in a Senator's apartment since those are nearby — Senator Amidala, it looks like — and they're being detained for questioning."

"Senator Amidala…"

"I s'pose she wants to ask them some follow up questions herself."

"Senator Amidala..." Anakin repeated strangely. "The one following behind them?"

Rex did a double-take.

 _Yes, Senator Amidala, sir_ , Rex wanted to say, _the senator whose pictures you have saved on an album on your holodisks._ But what he said was — "Yes… that's Senator Amidala, sir. You... don't recognize her? We should really get you to the medical facility."

Anakin blinked down at him almost thoughtfully. "So we're friends then — close friends." Before Rex could even remotely think of a response, the Jedi gave him a firm pat on the shoulder and ended with, "Medical bay — right after this."

And he was gone.

The Jedi sifted through the crowd and came onto the open street. Rex followed swiftly behind him. He followed him back past the fortress of guards, back to where Senator Padme Amidala paced behind them.

The Senator was wrapped in a mahogany, velvet dress that twisted around her arms and dropped low to her ankles. Her dark hair was pulled up into an artful updo that seemed to blossom like a flower on top of her head. And her eyes and expression — they lit up ever so subtly at the Jedi's approach. Her legs shortly came to a hold.

"General Skywalker, Captain Rex," the Senator greeted them first with a curt nod to both. Her eyes lingered on the General's form, however; and they seemed to finally register the fresh scars and bandages found there. Her elegant and poised composure abruptly fell; and she took a step forward. " You're injured…!"

Anakin appeared rather startled by her sudden shout and took a step backwards as she took another step forwards. She didn't seem to notice this aberration, but Rex certainly did.

"We just got back from deployment, Senator," Rex explained, stepping forward. He gave a vague gesture in a vaguer direction. "I have orders to escort General Skywalker to the nearest medical facility."

The Senator drew back in surprise. The surprise soon melded back into concern, but her reserved aura seemed to reassert itself. "Of course," she said with a nod, "I don't want to be keeping you."

"Actually," Anakin cleared his throat; he paused, folding his hands behind his back, "I noticed that you seem to have found yourself some prisoners." He threw a glance at the now stationary fortress of soldiers. "I think there's been a misunderstanding."

The senator pulled back again, lowered her raised hands, frowned in confusion. "A misunderstanding?"

"I think your prisoners may be… my _acquaintances_." Anakin answered, eyes veering to the side.

"Your acquaintances?" She repeated, folding her hands and quirking a brow. She attempted to follow his gaze but found nothing, nothing but disgruntled passersby and glaring crowds and sweating guards and an oranging sky.

A quick, deep nod.

"You're acquaintances broke into my room." The Senator responded, eyebrow still quirked.

"They did? " He blinked in surprise. The smallest smile seemed to bite at the corners of his lips. An amused smile.

Padme's expression twisted at this. It twisted in such a way that any onlooker could tell that she was annoyed. A rare drop of her politician mask.

Seeing her peeved frown, Anakin cleared his throat and finished quickly and rather haphazardly: "About that...er… I… tried to com you earlier to tell you that we were arriving on Coruscant — since we're _friends_ — but the message didn't seem to get through. So, I commed several friends of _mine_ and asked them to tell you personally." He laughed a laugh that Rex noted did not match his usual laughs — the senator seemed to note this too because a brief expression of concern flitted across her face again — and he ended with: "It seems as if they took my request too far."

Rex frowned at the explanation. He had not seen his General com anyone since the latter had awoken in the medical bay on the ship, and he knew for certain that Anakin was not fond of middlemen. Rex supposed that in reality he may not have known anything for certain about Anakin Skywalker at all.

"So… can I see them to be sure?" The Jedi continued with a quiet question. His tone was calm and formal. "I'm sure we can work this out without all of the jail and politics."

The senator seemed confused now by the calmness and formality as her lips were pulled into a frown, and her brows furrowed. She glanced at Rex who shrugged before she gave the Jedi a hesitant nod. "Of course, General Skywalker. It appears that it may very well be a misunderstanding. If they truly are your friends, General, they are mine as well."

At the final statement, a perturbed look crossed the Jedi's face. It was quickly replaced by an expression of satisfaction, however, as the senator led him to the halted guards. After a selection of words were exchanged, the guards uncoiled themselves around their prisoners.

A man and a woman. A frowning, unhappy man and a frowning, even unhappier woman. They were covered from head to toe with a fine layer of grainy dirt — it looked as if they had just come out of a sandstorm — and their shirts and trousers were a dark murky green color. Military-grade, it looked like. A heavy earthen smell hung heavily on them — dirt, wood, moss, grass, fire. But despite their rugged appearance, they both had very charming features — even though such features were twisted by an almost sly grin (on the man's part) and by a heated scowl (on the woman's part).

The man stepped forward first with his almost sly grin. He glanced at Rex briefly and his expression became disturbed — recognition with surprise, perhaps — before he turned to address both the senator and the Jedi with the smile back in place. "Look," he said, gesturing widely with his cuffed hands, "I think there's been a misunderstandi—"

The woman brushed past him and stepped in front of him. Whether it was a defensive or aggressive stance she took, Rex wasn't quite sure. Her chin was held high with dignity in such a way that she almost seemed like royalty. "I didn't think the people of Coruscant would be so brash in their treatment of civilians."

"Are these your friends, then?" Padme asked, turning to the Jedi with a raised brow.

Anakin nodded firmly, a faint trace of a smile making its way up his face. "Oh, it's definitely them, alright."

"Friends?" The cuffed man repeated, brow raised. He looked Anakin up and down. "Uh, sure… yeah. _Friends_. We go way back, don't we, Leia?" There was a rough gusto in his voice that seemed to pronounce his already apparent confidence even louder.

The woman looked Anakin up and down as well. Her face was scrunched, scrutinizing, distrusting almost. Suspicious, definitely. Yes, suspicious, definitely, but there was also something else in her eyes. The way her lascivious eyes trailed him up and down ever so slowly — anyone could tell that she was taking in the view.

 _It doesn't look like these people consider the General their friend_ , Rex thought to himself, ignoring the latter observation.

"Yes," Anakin continued, taking a step to the side and turning with his back to the duo. He gestured to the man and then the woman while saying, "This is Han and this is Leia. They are… childhood friends of mine."

The man and woman started in evident surprise and then exchanged looks. Together they scrutinized the man carefully. Rex scrutinized him as well.

"Oh?" Padme blinked in surprise. Her eyes were narrowed almost imperceptibly."I see."

The cuffed woman seemed to study the senator's behavior for a moment with hesitation, before she returned her gaze to the General. The General, who was also studying the senator quite carefully. Well, at least that seemed to be within the normal behavior range — or so Rex thought.

The next moment saw to the senator quietly exchanging words with the fortress of guards. There were some whispered words of "protocol" and "protection" and even "further questioning", but the senator's eyes sharpened and her tongue seemed to sharpen as well. A holodisk was then handed to the senator and after flicking through it briefly, she signed whatever it was, and handed it back to the guards. One of the guards, in turn, pressed a keycard to each of the prisoners' cuffs and stepped to the side. A quiet click was heard followed by a loud clack as the cuffs fell to the ground.

The man and the woman rubbed their reddening wrists simultaneously before exchanging looks. Looks with each other, then a glance at the senator, and then a longer glance at the General.

Padme stepped forward, hands folded, and smiled a pleasant, practiced smile at the man and the woman. "It seems as if there has indeed been a misunderstanding." She threw a glance in Anakin's direction and gestured towards him. "General Skywalker here has told me that you are acquaintances and that he asked you to inform me of his arrival—"

" _Skywalker_?" The man and the woman — Han and Leia — repeated, seeming to ignore the other implications. The word rolled off of their tongues naturally — they were no strangers to the name.

The woman looked Anakin up and down again. And again. Her eyes then brightened as if in realization; and her face seemed to pale. Her eyes then dimmed and her expression became cold like the steel trigger on a blaster. Cold, but readily armed to release a deadly ray of red heat.

 _Fiesty_ , Rex realized. Perhaps their friendship with the General didn't seem too unrealistic after all.

"It seems as you may be callous enough to consider us friends," Leia responded, seeming to pull the metaphorical trigger. "And although I appreciate the gesture, I assure you it is completely one-sided."

There was a pause as her words settled into the atmosphere. They seemed to act as a catalyst and thickened the stale air. The man, Han, seemed to choke on this thickened air as he cleared his throat loudly.

"She's joking!" Han reassured them all with a loud laugh. He gave his companion a rough and gruff pat on the back, before flashing a charming smile.

The senator turned towards the Jedi General after a brief pause and then offered him a raised brow. He, in turn, offered her a small shrug and an even smaller smile.

"Leia…" the Jedi explained, stepping closer to the formerly bound duo. "... Leia has a way with words." He side glanced at the addressed woman with an almost mischievous expression, before he reached over and patted her on the shoulder. "I've been saved in more ways than one with her wor—"

And suddenly Anakin was doubled over and cradling his purpling cheek with his metal hand. A loud and sickening cracking noise had preceded this incident; and prior to _that_ incident, Leia had flinched away from Anakin's sudden touch and then had instantly raised her arm and fist and _bam!_ as if the entire action were a mere reflex.

"Ow!" Anakin yelped, cradling his swelling cheek before giving a rather pleased-looking Leia a bewildered expression.

"Anakin!" came Padme's shout. Before she could draw close to him, however, the Jedi drew himself up and gave Leia another look. It was not — as Rex, as well as Padme, had been expecting — a look of irritation nor it was a look of hurt pride. Rather, the Jedi looked simply hurt in general.

"Leia," Anakin drew in almost a whisper, "it's me!"

Rex for a moment wondered how the phrase could offer any sort of clarification for the events that had just unfolded. But it did.

As soon as the three worded phrase slipped from Anakin's tongue, Leia snapped backwards. She snapped backwards so fast that for a moment Rex thought her eyeballs would pop right out of her skull with the force of it all. After all, her eyes were now wider than the Coruscanti moons.

"... Luke?" She whispered back, almost breathlessly.

"Luke?" Han repeated. His face twisted and contorted in an almost painful fashion as his gaze shifted between the woman and the Jedi. "What do you mean 'Luke'?"

Anakin made eye contact with the man and gave a slight incline of his head.

The man's eyes bulged. "Luke?!"

It was then that Padme finally was able to move herself from spectation to action; and she quickly aided the man up to his feet. Rex snapped into action shortly after and stepped in between the now gaping couple and his Jedi with raised hands.

"It's alright." Anakin waved them off. "There was just a misunderstanding…" He paused, rubbing his sore cheek. "... and it's just been cleared up."

"A misunderstanding that caused her to punch you in the face?" The senator questioned unconvinced. Her lips were pursed; and her eyes searched his face — searched for any indication of further bruising or winces of pain or anything off at all.

Leia cleared her throat. "Yes, it appears as if I've _somehow_ mistaken _General_ Skywalker for someone else. Someone who I'm not very fond of."

Padme shared a pensive look with Rex; but the man in turn simply found himself shrugging with a similar expression.

"Well, I am glad this misunderstanding has been cleared up; and I apologize first hand for any upset this may have caused." The senator responded gently with a politician's gentle smile to match her words. She inclined her head in the Jedi's direction, and her eyes flashed for a moment. "General Skywalker… you should check yourself into the medical facility immediately. Injuries on the field are no laughing matter — even for an astute General like yourself."

Anakin seemed to be in a slight daze as he stared at Leia and Han for what seemed like hours before he turned to the senator. He looked at her strangely then with slightly furrowed brows and a slightly cocked head — almost as if he was just beginning to recognize her, realize who she was.

"Oh — _right_."

"Yes, General Skywalker," Leia pressed from beside him with pursed lips, "you don't look so well. I think it'd be best if you get treated for a night in a bacta tank." She paused, seeming to trace his face with her eyes. "There's no need to worry yourself about catching up on old times since your health is more important. We can _catch up_ later, _right_?"

Rex watched as the Jedi's perplexed expression melded into an expression of realization and then acknowledgment. A deep, quick nod was given.

"The Coruscanti Archives." Leia clipped. "Catching up. Please do be there, _Jedi_."

Anakin gave her an even deeper nod in response. Before he could say or do much of anything else, however, Rex placed a hand a firm on his shoulder. It was an iron, steadfast grip.

"Sir, with all due respect, we should really be getting you to a medical facility."

And no other arguments were to be made.

* * *

As he allowed Rex to lead him away, Luke could feel three perturbed gazes pressing against his back. It was an uncomfortable feeling as he was not fond of attention nor scrutiny from friends, family, or strangers. Strangers.

He paused, throwing a quick glance backwards. Padme Amidala's gaze met with his own. Soft with the concern of a friend and yet glinting with something fiery — almost passionate — beneath it all.

The back of his head pounded furiously.

* * *

Medical procedures had always unnerved Luke. Not the surgical slicing, gauze wrapping, and biomechanical adjustments kind of medical procedures. It was the clipped and monotone doctoral questioning that drove him insane. Repeated yes or no questions. When, where, why, how questions.

Too many questions. Some of which he answered with scrambling, reaching responses and looping tangents.

This was what Luke found himself enduring as he sat covered in white sheets on a white hoverbed at the center of an even whiter room on the seventh floor of the capital medical center's white building. A very, very white medical droid rattled on beside him. White. Everything was almost unnaturally white and clean — so unlike the charmingly brusque medical stations he'd found himself skidding by in past months.

Year, name, date, star system. The medical droid asked countless questions about such things — questions that Luke found himself struggling to answer.

He was just glad that Rex had gone off to perform other duties rather than to bear witness to this mess unfolding in front of him.

"—ix hours of rest."

Luke perked up as the droid clipped its final remarks in a metallic falsetto, and he offered it a small nod and then a smile. "Right…. Thanks."

After rattling off some more medical lingo, the medbot departed in a flash of copper wire and steel plating. Luke stared after it and tried to place what model the droid was. A Republic model, obviously. But which version? After a second of mulling, he slapped himself and turned his thoughts to the situation at hand.

_I have to meet up with Leia and Han and get this sorted out, but..._

He peeked at the chrome doors which the medical droid had just disappeared behind. Sneaking out and escaping definitely had to come first.

 _I'm not even being held captive,_ he shook his head and stared at his foreign hands, _so there's no reason to even be sneaking. Habits._

"I just have to pretend to be Anakin Skywalker and head to the archives. Wherever that is." Luke sighed before he steadied himself. "I can do this."

Just as the encouraging thought passed through his mind, the double doors to his room slid wide open. A cold whirlwind of air flooded the physical atmosphere of the room, while a warmer and more subtle hum vibrated somewhere within the room where the eyes could not see. Visitors. No. Friends.

Luke blinked up from his hands.

"How unusual of you to actually follow the doctor's orders and rest."

Obi-wan Kenobi said this with folded arms and a too pleasant smile as he stood at the mouth of the doorway. The Jedi Master looked slightly more put together than before — or so Luke thought. Not that the man had _not_ looked well put together before. In the off light of the room, however, the Jedi's white and tan robes looked especially crisp and clean, like he'd gone to a laundromat and had them done right before. Briefly, Luke reminisced on the old and tattered robes he'd seen the Jedi master in when they'd first met.

"It's a comfortable bed," Luke answered, fisting the blankets in his hand.

"Oh, is that why you always make a trip up here, master? Because the beds are comfortable?"

Luke wasn't sure what startled him more — the title of "master" directed at him or the small girl who directed such a title at him. The girl — the young woman, rather — spied at him from beside Obi-wan. Her red, toned arms were crossed over her chest; and the white markings on her face twisted in such a way that matched her cheeky expression.

She was not a human. A Torguta, then — although due to his upbringing on Tattooine, Luke found his knowledge on galactic races rather… sparse.

She was also not a regular Torguta. A _Jedi_.

Luke could almost see the way the Force wrapped around her like a shroud, like a gray blanket of light enveloping her entire body; and he could see the twin lightsabers — he was rather surprised at seeing more than one — hanging at her hip. He could also see the way she looked at him, like how he himself had looked at Ben and Yoda. How her cheeky smile fell at his silence.

She knew him — his father — probably. And his father probably knew her.

But Luke did not think of such things. Rather, his thoughts —

_A Jedi! Another living, breathing Jedi!_

And although he knew he was being childish, he could not help but stare in wonder. After all, the only Jedi he had come to know himself were Yoda and Obi-wan. And, well, they weren't in the physical plane any longer; and they'd always puzzled him with their sad eyes, aged frowns, and cryptic words. The young woman standing before him, however — she was different, new, young, bright. Like _this_ Obi-wan. If he reached out, he could touch her.

"— bump in the head and you don't recognize your own Padawan anymore?" The Torguta Jedi asked, half-smirking and half-frowning with crossed arms.

Padawan?

A foreign yet familiar term. It had been said with the slightest hint of affection.

_I have a bad feeling about this._

"Of course not," Luke replied quickly. He scrambled for words and then gestured vaguely to his body. "Still a bit everywhere from being put in the bacta tank..." Trailing off, he studied the girl for a moment.

' _Your Padawan' she said._ He thought to himself. _So that's how she's related to Anakin then? Padawan…_

"What did the medical droid say?" Obi-wan questioned lightly. There was a careful and practiced smile stretched across his face like a mask, like it was carved from stone — although Luke himself couldn't fathom why. He wasn't _that_ suspicious and obvious was he?

"Just that I should try to stop getting head injuries all the time." Luke answered honestly. He noticed the Torguta girl crack a smile at this. "An hour in the bacta tank did me good." He paused and then added for measure: "Memories still a bit jumbled up but no worries. I'll get everything straightened out eventually."

_Hopefully._

A pause.

"I see…how troubling. Well, if you need help in that area, Ahsoka and I are here." Obi-wan supplied. He was stroking his beard now and had once again pulled up that odd smile onto his face.

' _Ahsoka'._ Luke side glanced at the Torguta for a brief second. The name felt familiar as he turned it over in his mind. It had an almost fairytale-like quality to it just as "Jedi" had in his time.

"And I do hope that you take the doctor's orders to heart this time and avoid hitting your head too hard again. It's not very healthy." The Jedi master finished, coy and sharp and dripping with sarcasm.

Luke blanched at the biting words and razor-sharp humor. It was unusual for him to hear to say the least. His Ben had always been so cautious with his words — or so Luke had thought — like the man had been trying his best not to bite, not to hurt, only to encourage. Of course, a few snippish words had slipped from his Ben's mouth on occasion, but nothing to this extent.

"I'll… keep that in mind." Luke replied, resisting the temptation to snap back at the man just as coyly.

"I spoke to the Council about the disturbance." Obi-wan continued, and Luke perked up at that the sound of the word ."Some think it to be some sort of Sith manipulation."

Luke shook his head quickly. "It's not a Sith manipulation." And after the Jedi Master prodded at him with a curious expression, the body surfer finished lamely, "It doesn't feel like it."

Obi-wan looked him over again. And finally, he uncrossed his arms, stroked his red beard one last time, before he offered an amused smile. This time it was genuine.

"Well, take it easy now, Anakin. I must go make my rounds. If you need anything, don't hesitate to com me. If not, I'll see you at the temple when you recover."

_Temple._

With the word still ringing almost excitably in his ears, Luke watched as the Jedi master offered a friendly nod of his head before sweeping out of the room. The younger man paused, thoughts racing as the word repeated in his head over and over again.

_A standing Jedi temple._

He'd been in search of a Jedi temple ever since Yoda had mentioned such places to him in passing on Dagobah. They had had such a mystical and sanctuary-like color to them in his mind's eye. A place full of mystery, discovery, knowledge, secrets.

In between his missions for the Rebellion, he'd spent quite some time doing research on the temples. Researching on them and daydreaming about them too to be frankly honest.

"...Skyguy?"

Luke quickly snapped his gaze from the doorway to the Torguta Jedi who was now standing by his bedside. She was very pretty, Luke realized, just as Obi-wan was very handsome and the senator very beautiful; and the Torguta had a youthful, fiery spark in her eyes that reminded him vaguely of Leia. As he began to wonder exactly how old she was and where she fell in the Jedi order of things, he began to wonder those things about his father as well.

"Just lost in my thoughts," Luke responded slowly. "... _Ahsoka_."

Unfolding her arms, the Torguta raised a concerned brow. "Master?"

The address sent tingles down his spine. And he felt awfully out of place hearing such a title directed at him. But he could tell that the word was familiar on the girl's tongue and that she was used to saying it just like this (with a quirked smile and almost adoring, praising eyes) to him — to Anakin.

_Is she… my father's apprentice?_

At the mere thought of the possibility, a jealous pang beat inside of his chest. It was a gross, twisted, uncomfortable, dirty, unpleasant feeling that he quickly folded away and released into the Force.

"It's… nothing to worry about, Ahsoka." Luke said carefully. "Just thinking about the mission. Thanks for the concern."

"Oh, I see …" Ahsoka hummed, seeming to be lost in thought as well. She looked him over as if searching for something."When did the medbot say you could leave?"

"Not sure. There was a lot of medical bot lingo in the whole diagnosis thing. Nothing serious though." He replied honestly. "But I'm just going to assume that he said I could leave whenever I felt like it."

A coy smile pressed the Torguta's lips. "And when do you feel like leaving?"

"Well, now seems like a pretty good time." Luke couldn't help but flash a smile back despite himself. He paused, backtracking. "But I'd like to meditate for a little first. You know — get my thoughts together."

Ahsoka's face twisted in such a way that Luke would have burst out laughing if he hadn't been so focused on evaluating his situation. It was an expression of incredulity — eyebrows raised, mouth slightly ajar. " _You_ meditating?"

Luke frowned.

Wasn't meditation a very Jedi-like thing to do? Ben had always made it seem like it with his constant answer for everything being "meditate on it".

"Well, yes, it's a Jedi thing to do..." Ahsoka replied slowly.

And Luke found himself blushing slightly as he realized he had asked the thought question aloud.

"It's just that you don't really… do it that often, master."

Collecting himself, Luke once again filed this information away in his mind, before he flashed a small smile paired with a response: "Well, there's a first time for everything."

Ahsoka did not look particularly convinced.

* * *

anomaly 07

_An elderly man stands behind his office desk. His gaze is set off towards the sunset that is playing behind his windowpane. His hands are folded elegantly behind his back, his back straight and poised._

" _Is there something wrong, Chancellor?"_

_The man turns, a hint of annoyance glinting in his eyes before it is swallowed by a smile. "I was expecting a friend to visit. He's not usually late for our meetings. Something appears to be keeping him."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i updated my [ fantasy web serial! ](https://sixchances.home.blog/) if you'd kindly give it a read!


	4. 004: Knowledge, 10%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the world is ending but here is a chapter

* * *

anomaly 08

_Usually in this sort of peculiar state there is tranquil silence. The type of silence people would usually describe as so strong that the sound of a pin drop would be considered cacophonous. The type of silence that folds itself over, through, and into you. The type where you find yourself not knowing where the silence ends and you begin. A unifying, undiscriminating silence._

_This time, however, there is noise. Endless noise. The kind of noise that verges on the bridge in between symphonic and cacophonic. Between the screech of nails scraping along a chalk board and the ring of two tones resonating at a perfect, singular frequency._

_The noise is so loud, yet so deafening, that it burns. It burns bright and scathingly hot inside at the core where all the times before it has felt cool and soothing._

_The noise, the sound — it's maddening. Too many distinct and individual things speaking, whispering at once. Speaking and whispering so loud and in such unison that the distinctness and the individuality is all but lost. Amongst this noise, a single voice calls out._

" _Anakin?"_

_Luke Skywalker, responding to a name that is not his own, shakes into wakefulness._

* * *

"A fruitful meditation, Master?"

Luke blinked over his bedside and found himself staring down at a rather cheeky expression. Ashoka, owner of such a cheeky expression, sat cross-legged on the floor with her hands resting on her knees and palms faced upwards.

He stared at her curiously for a moment wondering exactly what about her Padawan-Master relationship with his father caused her to wait so patiently for him to finish his meditation. Respect? Honor? Reverence? No. Loyalty?

_Not through fear, but…_

"Not as fruitful as I'd hope it'd be." Luke answered honestly, wiping beads of sweat off his brow. He uncrossed his legs and swung them over his beside. "Yours?"

Ashoka in turn rose to a stand, hands on hips.

"As fruitful as it usually is, Master." She clipped. "So."

"So…" he returned, touching to the ground. "So, I should get going then. Thanks for the company," he said quickly, sweeping to the doorway, "but actually I—"

And suddenly Ahsoka was in front of him wedged perfectly in-between his body and the door. Her arms laid folded across her chest and her brows as well as her lips were quirked slightly upwards. With his new gained height, Luke found himself almost towering over the Torguta. She seemed so small. Briefly, he wondered exactly how old she was.

"Not so fast, Skyguy."

 _ **Sky**_ _guy?_ A nickname. A sting in the stomach.

"You promised me a training due as soon as you got back." She finished. "And you said if you didn't do that, you'd take me out for some Felucian Fritters."

Ignoring the sour pang in his stomach at both the word "fritters" and "promised training", Luke cleared his throat and shook his head apologetically. Perhaps too apologetically, Luke thought to himself. His father didn't really seem to be the apologetic type seeing as how the former Sith Lord had nonchalantly sliced off his hand seemingly without a single thought. Still, Luke tried, "I'm sorry, Ashoka, but I've got to meet with some people. They've been waiting for me and it's really important — it was all very last minute."

Ahsoka's lips quirked slightly downwards. "Oh, I see how it is, Master." There was a bite in her voice.

The uncomfortable feeling already nestled in Luke's stomach gave way to an even more uncomfortable feeling. It twisted in his gut like a snake. Guilt.

Luke took a step back and rubbed his neck. The cold touch of his metal hand startled him; and he quickly dropped his hand.

"Master?" Ashoka questioned, registering his flinch and dropping her crossed arms.

"How about…" Luke drew quickly, hoping the discrepancy wasn't too noticeable. "I buy you some of those fritters on the way, young Padawan." The word felt a bit unnatural on his tongue.

_A little bit of this shouldn't hurt, right? And—_

The expression of concern that had been so obviously etched on her face melded into one of cheeky joy and satisfaction. She stepped to the side, hands once again folded over her chest, and gave an equally cheeky nod of her head.

"I thought so." She responded _cheekily_.

"And you could show me the way to the Coruscanti Archives on the way." Luke finished, trying his best to sound suave and reserved as any person wise in the Force should be. "Equivalent exchange in a way."

Ahsoka raised a brow. "The Coruscanti Archives? That's a strange place to meet."

 _Well, it's been strange in general so far, so meeting at a strange place seems to be normal…_ Luke thought inquisitively to himself.

"Strange?" Ahsoka repeated. "Strange how?"

Luke blinked. His words, he realized, seemed to be slipping more and more uncontrollably out from his thoughts and lips. Not quite a satisfactory habit to develop as a Jedi nor as a regular everyman.

"Master?"

"It's nothing." He waved her off and offered an automatic smile. "Just lost in my thoughts."

She studied him for a moment, lips pursed, eyes narrowed, limbs hesitant. What she saw, Luke didn't quite know — although he did wonder. Maybe she could see something, he worried, that wasn't quite Anakin Skywalker. Not that he even knew what qualified as Anakin Skywalker. Not that he even knew how to play Anakin Skywalker even if he knew what qualified as Anakin Skywalker.

The looping thoughts attacked him once more; and Luke tried his best to fold them away.

Ahsoka was giving him an even stranger look now, which he attributed to his own inquisitive silence and contemplative expression.

"Er— let's go."

* * *

Standing beneath the shade of the drawn red rooftop of a smoky caravan, Ahsoka peeked into her master's face. It was a face that she had peeked at many times before. Quick, observational peeks. To search for pride, disappointment, fear, encouragement. She had learned how to read all of these expressions by instinct during the two long years of war, during the two short years of her apprenticeship with him. Oddly, however, as she peeked into his face this time, for a startling and uneasy moment her instincts told her that she was peeking into the face of a stranger. She swallowed the ridiculous feeling. The head injury was the explanation was what her logic told her.

The head injury—

The only physical traces left of it were the faint scents of bacta fluid and antiseptics which clung to his robes and hair. And beyond that…

"Uhm, Master, do you need any… help?"

His face, flecked with sweat and strung with dampened hair, was somewhat flushed; and when she asked the question, his face seemed to flush even more. For the past five minutes he'd been struggling with procuring from his wallet "three-point-six Republic credits — a discount, master Jedi" as the vendor had said. The five minutes previous to that saw her master struggling with untangling the wallet from his robes.

The vendor behind the counter and those in the line behind them had begun to exchange looks, whispers, grumbles after the initial five minutes; and now they were beginning to shift in place and give pointed glances.

"Do they not teach you how economics work in the Jedi temple, master Jedi?" The vendor behind the counter of the smoking caravan asked pleasantly, jokingly. There was an underlying tone of impatience in his question — hidden, almost undetectable. But the vendor kept all of this tucked behind a tight smile as all citizens of Coruscant did in the presence of Jedi.

Anakin's gaze snapped up from the collection of silver bars he was palming in his hand; and he responded with a slew of words that Ashoka — and she supposed the vendor as well — could not understand. His eyes snapped back down to the credits, before he slapped the entire cluster of credits down onto the countertop. The coins clinked, clattered, chimed against the chipped wood.

"Keep the change."

Ashoka eyed him in slight surprise and then eyed the metal tray that was piled with golden crisps on the counter before them. The crisps seemed to glisten in the reddening sunlight of dusk. Her mouth watered.

"A-Are you sure, master Jedi?" The vendor stuttered, eyes wide, mouth tipping upwards. Before Anakin could give a quick inclination of his head, however, the vendor swept the coins into his own lap and pushed the fritters forward. "Your generosity will be remembered!"

"It's nothing." Anakin responded quickly, sweeping the tray off from the countertop and handing it to Ashoka. "Really."

Ashoka perked her head up in protest, but the warmth of the tray seeped into her hands and she instead popped a silencing fritter into her mouth. Humming with content as the oils melted on her tongue, she fell into step behind her master and followed him away from the smoky food marketplace. She eyed his back, a towering silhouette of blackness against the blinking city lights. There was a looseness in his shoulders, she noticed. Strange, as he'd always stand straight, upright, poised, as if a school teacher might slap his wrist with a ruler if he didn't.

_He must be exhausted._

"Master…" She drew, licking crumbs from her lips. When he didn't respond, she quickened her pace and fell into step beside him. "Master, are you sure you're alright? I know you're not one to spend the day in bed, but… "

He tilted his head down towards her like a wilting flower and smiled the softest smile she had ever seen him smile. It was, however, a tight smile. "I'm alright. Really." A pause. His gaze shifted, almost awkwardly. "So this Coruscanti Archives place — is it close by?"

"Yeah, only a couple of blocks, Master." Ashoka replied. She followed his shifting gaze and popped another fritter into her mouth. "I'm surprised you don't know where it is. They made renovations last month and it's huge now."

"Do you go there often?"

"Barris does. In between missions, we visit the Archives together and then spar at the training grounds at the Temple."

There was a slight change in his stance at the final word, but Ahsoka attributed it to the sudden gush of air that winded them as they passed beneath an overhanging copper-colored bridge. A tram clinked and clanked in a rush of silver above them. It had been a shiver, probably.

"Barris?"

"She was off-world last time I checked. On a diplomatic mission with Master Windu I think."

"... diplomacy, huh?"

Ahsoka blinked, frowned in thought.

He blinked down back at her in turn, rubbed the back of his neck, shook his head, shifted his gaze. "It's nothing. I just—"

She raised a brow. "Lost in your thoughts again, Master?"

Another _soft_ smile cracked at the question.

There was a long pause of silence. Usually, Ahsoka would find herself enveloped in these types of silences only after an achingly long battle in some planet's marshy, wetland trenches. Caked head to toe in moss, grime, dirt, and sweat, she'd sit motionlessly in this quiet and listen to the heavy, bated breaths of those around her as well as the thunderous roar inside of her chest — assurance that they had survived. A sort of wistful, peaceful, tranquil silence.

She was not used to experiencing these types of silences while smack in the heart of Coruscant nor while in the presence of her master.

This current silence was wistful, peaceful, tranquil — yes. But it was also out of place. Awkward.

The bridge fell away behind them; and the noise of the tram followed it. The silence intensified.

There was no "So, Snips, what have you been up to?" nor any "I hope you've been practicing the form I showed you last moon" nor even a "It's good to see you, Ashoka".

No, there was only—

— silence.

Ahsoka allowed the crisp in her mouth to melt and soften. Crunching it — even in the middle of this ambling, noisy walkway — seemed in her mind's eye akin to blowing a blaring trumpet.

"How long have you been my padawan again, Ahsoka?"

Sarcasm, probably. Ahsoka rolled her eyes. The unnerving, awkward feeling twisting in her stomach dissipated; and everything seemed right again.

"Too long." She snarked jokingly, before she eyed him with a smirk. He seemed somewhat alarmed at her returned sarcasm (which frankly gave _her_ alarm), however, and she corrected herself. "Almost two years now, master."

"Two years…?" Brows raised. A pause. And... had that possibly been a look of jealousy? "And… how long have you been with the Jedi Order, again?"

Ahsoka paused in step prompting Anakin to also pause and turn towards her. His expression, accented by the flickering flashes dark and yellow light of moving traffic, was unreadable, strange.

"Is... everything okay?"

"Master…" Ashoka drew. "Is everything okay with _you_? I'm worried about you. They said you hit your head pretty hard and just now..."

"Just now?" Anakin repeated, earnest, surprised, somewhat taken back, confused, concerned — Ahsoka could not decipher which expression he reflected back at her. Then, he smiled softly again. "Ahsoka, I'm fine."

Ahsoka frowned, tossed her tray of fritters to the side in a bin she spotted in the darkness, and reached out a hand to her master's good arm. The light of a passing bus overhead illuminated them like the flash from a camera; and she quirked a smile. "Honestly, Master, you seem more out of it than the time where you and Obi-Wan had to down ten death sticks to maintain your cover on Iberim."

Anakin blinked, shook his head. "— _What_?"

"See!" Ashoka snapped, pointing a finger in his face. "If you were 'fine' you would have gone 'Snips, at least I didn't mistake a case of wine for deathsticks!'"

Anakin blinked again. And again. And again.

His eyes flickered, flashed, narrowed ever so slightly — Ashoka could practically see the copper bolts and steel gears in his turning, churning, cracking (but _why?_ ). And then finally, as if nothing happened, her master huffed a huff of air that seemed to have an amused ring to it and said: "You know what? You're right, Ashoka. I _am_ out of it, but lucky for me my Padawan is here to guide me to my destination."

This time, Ahsoka blinked. She blinked and the strangeness she saw before that was masking her master's face seemed to pull away. "Your destination," she finally replied, arms crossed, head nodding upwards, "is right here, Skyguy."

Ahsoka watched as Anakin's eyes flickered upwards. In the dark of his pupils a monochrome monolith was reflected. Tiles of black and white glass checkerboarded themselves across a pointed skyscraper. There was only a single discrepancy to this pattern: a flashing sign that resided at the very top of the building. It read "Coruscanti Archives".

"Impressive renovations…" her master seemed to say more to himself than her.

She placed a hand on the side of his arm again. This time she was firmer, more resolute. Somewhere in the far distance, she could feel her training bond waver as if in reassurance.

"I know I'm beginning to sound like Obi-Wan now, but rest sounds like something you need, master." She pulled back, arms crossed, looking somewhat cross herself. "After this mysterious meeting of yours."

"I will, Ahsoka. I promise." He responded earnestly. He stepped backwards towards the building and offered her one last soft smile. "Thanks for the directions. You'd make a topnotch navigator."

"Oh, the highest of compliments."

Ahsoka watched as her master gave a slight chuckle at her bite, watched as he turned towards the towering skyscraper with an odd carefulness, watched as he turned back towards her and gave an oddly curt nod. She watched; and then, as if on some sudden whim, she found herself saying, "Since as long as I can remember."

Saying nothing, Anakin gazed at her with raised brows.

"To answer your question from before — the one with the obvious answer." She explained. "I consider the Jedi Order my home — my family." A pause. "I've been with the Order for as long as I can remember — almost like everyone else, remember?"

Ahsoka wasn't quite sure why she gave an answer Anakin should have already known nor was she was certain why her master had asked such a question in the first place. When she gave the answer, however, she witnessed an anomaly. As the headlights of passing bus overhead graced their features, the shadows danced across Anakin's face in such away that he almost appeared —

— somber.

A smile — soft again — tore through the twisting shadows; and Anakin inclined his head. "Right, how could I forget."

* * *

The Coruscanti Archives seemed almost to originate from a fanatical bookworm's dream. Towering, intricately-designed bookcases shot up towards the ceilings and lined numerous pathways and walkways that all met up at some designated center beneath a glass dome that rose high above the center. Flickering traffic lights and twinkling city lights from the outside bled through the hazy night clouds and poured into and through the glass dome. The silvery light poured down past twenty levels of book-stacked floors and down to the bottom floor. Basking in this light at the bottom was a duo stationed beside a wooden table piled high with twenty books and forty holodisks. A man and a woman. The man paced, while the woman read on a metal chair. Every so often her gaze would flicker up and their gazes would meet meaningfully.

"So, let me get this straight." Han finally spoke, clapping his hands together. "We've been smuggled to the past — the Clone Wars, blood and guts, shrapnel-flying past — because of Force things; and Luke out there is somehow dancing around in his father's body — your father's body—"

Slapping close the book that was resting on her lap, Leia sent Han a steely glare. "He's not my father. Bail was."

Han stopped short of his pace. "... You know I didn't mean it like that."

Leia did not meet his gaze; and instead exchanged the book in her hand for another one that was laying on the table. "I know."

Frowning, Han approached her and then hopped onto the table where he sat cross-legged in front of her. He coyly pried away the book that was pressed in between her fingers and flipped it over.

"A history of all things Republic," he read, thumbing the gold gilded letters on its cover. "Not the type of book I'd guess a hotheaded princess like you would be reading."

"I'm surprised you can read at all."

Grumbling, he handed the book back to her. "So you're doing research to try and find this anomaly you were talking about."

"Exactly." She pried open the book and leafed through the pages. "Something out of the ordinary. Something that doesn't fit."

Han raised a brow, gestured widely. "Uh, Leia, look at us."

"I highly doubt that the universe would be that fickle in humor."

"And you know so much about the universe and how the Force works."

"More than you do."

"Look," Han sighed, hopping off from the table, "I get why you and Luke were dragged into this whole Force-wizardry mess, but why me?" He gestured widely to himself. "I'm just some smuggler-turned-rebel dragged along for the ride." He put a halting finger up. "Don't get me wrong. I am happy I'm here with you to help you and Luke with your usual world-changing adventures, but…"

"... Why do you do that?" Her eyes, for once, were lowered.

"Do what?"

"Act like you're not important."

A pause.

Han swept forward, bowed his head down low so that he was only centimeters away from her face — her lips, and he smirked. "Oh, I know I'm important. At least to someone."

Leia returned the smirk, tilted her head upwards to receive the oncoming gesture like a flower, and then—

"Luke!"

— she snapped abruptly away from Han and came to a stand. Looking rather cross with the sudden change of events, Han followed her gaze.

Standing only a couple feet away by the other end of the table was a rather familiar tall man. He stood there, staring at them with a single raised brow paired with slightly pursed lips.

"Luke?" Han tried.

The man nodded in confirmation.

"This is just too weird…"

"What took you so long?" Leia questioned, brushing past Han who still had a look of stupor on his face. Her eyes were trained solely, purposefully on Luke's eyes. She would not look anywhere else on him — his face, his hair, his body.

"I was... caught up." Luke answered slowly, coming forward and eyeing the books and holodisks that were laid out on the table. "It turns out my dad was very social, before he fell to the dark side."

Han snapped out of his stupor. "Wait — what do you mean 'fell to the dark side'?"

Luke and Leia exchanged looks.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you." Luke answered nonchalantly, calmly, although his voice took on a melancholy tone at the end. "My dad, Anakin Skywalker, fell to the dark side and became Darth Vader. When Ben was telling me that Darth Vader killed my father, he was telling his version of the truth."

Han shook his head with one hand on his hip and the other held up in a pausing gesture. "Wait, wait, wait a minute." He took a deep breath and snapped — "You're telling me Darth Vader was your kriffing dad?!"

A passerby carrying a massive tower of holodisks in hand — possibly a librarian — hushed them loudly before giving a silencing glare. Luke apologetically nodded at her and watched her disappear among the maze of bookcases.

"A little louder, Han." Luke frowned at him.

"This is a lot to take in." Han shook his head once more. "Talk about an extended family tree." He paused, raising a brow at Luke. His pausing gesture turned into a placating gesture. "You don't feel like torturing me now, do you?"

Luke rolled his eyes. It was strange to see such a tall and intimidating man do such a childish action. He deadpanned — "No, Han."

Han ran his hands through his hair and side-glanced at Leia. She would not meet his gaze.

"Look," Luke whispered, somber, "I know how hard this is for you and Leia because all of the things he did to you; and I know it's difficult to look at me; and I won't ask you to change how you think — but my father was a good man in the beginning and in the end." He folded his hands behind his back. "Besides, we need to focus on what's happening now."

This time, Leia and Han exchanged a look.

"Alright, Master Jedi." Han gestured widely towards the cluttered table and then slumped down into a drawn out chair. "Time to start doing your Force thing."

"Actually…" Luke tried. "I was thinking of investigating the Jedi Temple to see if I can find anything there."

"Jedi Temple?" Han repeated the foreign, mystical-sounding place with a skeptical frown.

"It was turned into the Imperial Palace after the Clone War." Leia provided, glancing at Han before fixating her gaze on Luke's eyes. "That's actually a good idea, Luke. If there are archives there, the information will probably more useful than what we have here."

Luke nodded.

"Yeah, but what happens when your dad's Jedi friends realize you're not — you know — your dad?" Han questioned pointedly, before he nodded back at the Jedi. "No offense, Luke, but you're not the best actor."

"It _is_ harder to pretend to be someone who already exists than to pretend to be someone who's made up." Luke admitted. Trailing off, he reminisced all the times he had gone undercover for the Rebellion. It hadn't been hard because he had been playing a certain variation of himself and he had many liberties on his acting. He shook the memories away, saying, "But people seem to think that I'm acting weird — my father, I mean — because of a head injury."

"And the fact that the truth is far from believable will also be advantageous for our recon." Leia finished

"Exactly. I'll be careful though."

"Well, if you're going to do your temple-seeking thing," Han pressed, "we should find a new rendezvous place." He thumbed a glowing sign behind him. "Archives closes in an hour."

Luke cleared his throat, and a coy expression flitted across his face. It was a rare expression for Luke to show; and it was strange to see a stranger's face twist to the emotion. "I think I might have a solution for that."

Leia and Han watched as Luke withdrew from his robes a slender looking wallet and popped it open. Inside glistened a cluster of silver bars. Luke dug past these things and pulled a slender black cylinder. He clicked a button on the thing and a glowing blue rectangle sprouted out from its width. A holocard. The letters that flickered on the projected screen read — Illuria Apartments, Room 004.

Han crossed his arms loosely and pointed at the card. "Your old man's?"

"Ours." Luke shrugged. "For now." He clicked the card off and handed the cylinder to Leia who studied it with a blank expression. "We can meet up there. Just please don't," pursing his lips, he gestured in between the man and the woman, "don't forget to let me in if you guys get distracted. I don't want to be locked out. Again."

Han smirked, while Leia scowled.

* * *

Stepping back out onto the crowded night streets of Coruscant, Luke breathed in the scents of smoke, rust, soot, and sweat. It wasn't necessarily pleasant, but Luke found it to be a much more pleasant smell than the scent of oil from perfectly shined imperial stormtrooper armor that was most likely always present during Imperial rule. Slowly, he released the breath and the thought. Instead, he focused within himself a single thought — a thought of a destination.

"The Jedi Temple…"

 _Time to trust in your instincts, Luke_ , he thought to himself, _and — hope you don't get lost._

A feeling bubbled at the pit of his stomach, boiled outwards, and spilled into limbs, fingertips, and toes. His left foot moved first and then his right. And then, he found himself drifting down the ambling streets towards a pinpointed destination.

It did not take Luke long to spot the Jedi Temple. He only had to follow a feeling, wind down two bisecting streets, and then there! In the moonlit horizon grew several spires on top of a pyramid-like structure. Even from this distance, the structure seemed monolithic. Just below it unfolded a straight flight of stairs. And sure, Luke presumed that there could be some possibility that the looming monolith was just some big corporate building, but the way it seemed to glow white in the night seemed to say otherwise.

Luke took a bated breath, skimmed the building over once more with eyes, traced the pointed spires and perfectly carved stone, imagined every single possibility; and biting back a nervous smile, he took off. Not once as he looped down caravan-packed alleys and alongside roaring trafficways did he ever lift his gaze from its glowing stonework.

By the time he reached the seemingly endless flight of limestone stairs that unfolded upwards towards the temple, Luke found that his heart was sputtering and reverberating like a revved podracer engine. In the calming silence of the deep night, the sound roared loudly in his ears. He briefly wondered how many Jedi he would encounter by just strolling up those stairs. Then again, the courtyard he had just passed through before reaching the stairwell had been empty and quiet save for a clankering trashbot.

Did Jedi of the past even sleep? The tingling chills spreading throughout from his body from his heart prevented Luke from reaching a rational answer.

 _Calm yourself_ , he told himself. Before he argued back shortly, sarcastically — _it's only a living, breathing, standing Jedi Temple. Only never heard of where you come from._

Shaking himself both mentally and physically, he put his left foot forward onto the first step. And then his other foot onto next step. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next, until the pattering of his footsteps echoed as loudly in his ears as the pounding in his chest.

Soon, he found himself standing at the very top of the stairwell with another stone courtyard unfolding in front of him. Shadows cast by marble statues of cloaked men holding ignited lightsabers fell across this courtyard. Luke would say that the statues were almost eerily life-like if it were not for the fact that they seemed twenty feet tall. Nestled at the very center of them was a large archway that opened like a giant mouth. Through it, Luke could see another courtyard opening up to numerous roofed hallways. And, as he observed these details, he came to a realization.

He was not alone.

Standing at both sides of the archway were two silhouettes. Two faceless silhouettes draped in white garments that seemed to match the color of the building behind them. They stood there — motionless like the towering statues. If it were not for the flow of energy that seemed to wrap around and resonate through them, Luke would have certainly thought that there was no difference between them and the stonework. But—

— Luke felt his breath hitch —

— they were definitely Jedi. He could feel that certainly pulling at his chest.

 _Be cool, Luke_ , he could hear Han's voice whispering at him inside of his head.

Fixating his gaze on the archway, he began to move towards it with purpose. He folded his hands over his chest, paused, and then folded his hands behind his back. He took several deep breaths to calm his heart that was rattling in its cage, before he passed by the two white Jedi.

They didn't spare him a glance.

Sighing, he stepped over the threshold of the archway—

— and the Jedi Temple's courtyard unfolded before him. It was certainly a sight to behold. The moonlight fell like a wreath over the swirling trees that dotted the corners of the yard and bathed everything in tones of silver and black. The branches of the trees — white in color — seemed to almost reach up to the falling light.

Everything was still, quiet, empty.

Luke, eyes sparkling more intensely than the moon and the stars that accompanied them, stared in awe.

But it wasn't so much as the appearance of the beginning of the temple that gave him awe but the _presence_ the place gave.

Connection. Peace. Calm.

He could feel the Force weaving through this entire place like a needle on a thread. And he could feel the people here.

Jedi.

Luke smiled faintly and looked around quickly to make sure no one had seen his slip.

No one.

And so, he chose one of the hallways leading out of the yard that felt just right and went on through it.

Yes, he went on through it, traced his hands along the grooves in the wall, eyed the skylight that slithered through the high windows, looped down another corridor, entered what appeared to be a mess hall, winded down yet another corridor, passed by an ornate doorway, before he came to an abrupt stop in the middle of a hall that intersected with another one.

"And, I'm lost."

He folded his hands. Looked right and then left.

"Great.

Humming to himself, he studied his metal hand for a moment before looking off to the west corridor.

"I guess Jedi don't really need signs when they have the Force, right?"

As expected, no one answered him. So, he headed down the west hall. It was only after the second or third step down this wing that he came to realize he was not alone.

Soft footsteps. Soft footsteps which became louder — quick and light. Quicker and lighter than this pattering sound were heavy pants and gasps of breath that soon clouded the air.

Luke turned.

A small body dashed forward. A braid of hair flicked in the moonlight.

"Wait, careful—!"

Two bodies collided in the darkness.

Luke caught himself mid-fall and then rushed over to where the small body has fallen. A boy dressed in robes.

A Jedi.

"Are you alright?"

The boy groaned as Luke eased him up. The boy then blinked once and then twice as if he were trying to blink away the shadows that veiled Luke's — rather, Anakin's — face. When the shadows cleared and the boy's vision adjusted, his eyes widened. His body stiffened.

"Y-Y-You're—!"

Luke drew back as the boy hopped to a stand.

"Master Skywalker!" The boy blurted.

Caught off guard, Luke could only offer a — "That's me alright."

Before Luke could say anything else, the boy rushed forward and gushed — "I know that the curfew started a couple hours ago, but I was hungry so I just made a quick stop by the mess hall... And. I'm a Padawan now, Master. So the curfew rules shouldn't apply anymore." Pausing, the boy flicked the braid in his hair.

 _Ahsoka had the same thing—_ Luke came to realize.

"And I only have done it just this once and not before when I was a youngling— I promise you. It's just that— "

Luke raised his hand in a placating gesture and nodded at the boy, the Padawan. "I understand." — he said such a thing, although he really did not understand at all. "I promise I won't tell anyone if you do something for me."

"What is it, Master Skywalker?"

"Could you tell me where the archives are?"

The boy blinked and looked Luke over once more as if he expected Luke's face to change right then and there. His expression of curiosity smoothed over into one of forced serenity — _Jedi-like_ _even for a kid,_ Luke thought — and he nodded.

"You just go down this corridor," the boy answered, gesturing down the hall, "take a right and then a left, and then you go straight through the courtyard. It'll be the first door you see."

Luke smiled and patted the boy lightly on the shoulder. "Thank you…" He trailed off in deep thought.

The boy, however, interpreted the pause as an invitation to speak; and so he quickly answered an unasked question: "Caleb Dume. My name, Master Skywalker"

Luke blinked in surprise.

"Oh. Thank you, Caleb."

The boy, Caleb, grinned with sparkling eyes, before he gave a quick bow and dashed off into the darkness. It was only a second later that Luke noticed a lump hidden in the shadows where the boyhad fallen earlier.

"Hey, Caleb!" Luke called out to the dark as he bent down to pick up the dropped item He turned the item over in his hands. It was warm, soft, golden in the silver light. Bread. Glancing back up into the unchanging dark hall which had swallowed up Caleb's form, he shrugged and tucked it into his robes.

* * *

Luke gently pressed open the stone door and peeked into the room. The cool night air of the courtyard behind him pressed against his back as if ushering him in.

"Hello?" He whispered, slipping through the crack of the door. He shut it quietly behind him, pressed his back against it, and glanced around the room.

The air in the room was warmed by a singular large lantern placed at one of the large rectangular tables that ran down the middle of the entire place. On either side of the line of tables were two levels of bookcases. They glowed softly, gently with crystal-like shades of blue; and they seemed to pulsate in the presence of the silvery light pouring down from the top window on the other end of the room. Holodisks.

"Oh, wow," he breathed. A grin won over his face again. "Wow…"

Peeling himself away from the door, he briskly walked to the nearest bookcase. He ran his fingertips along the edges of the disks stowed away on its shelves and skimmed the letterings on their spines.

_Ach-to, Vol 5._

_Astromechs, Vol 1._

Raising his brows, he took a step back and quickly made for a bookcase several cases down. He skimmed the holodisks there.

_Tatooine, Vol 1._

His eyes lowered and his expression for a moment became somber. But he continued his search.

_Takanoda._

_Temple of Eedit._

_Temple of Illim._

_**Time, Volume 2.** _

Without hesitation, Luke pulled the disk from its perch and palmed it in his hands. He eyed the holodisks that had been sandwiched around it.

"Where are the other volum—"

_Training: The Many Forms of the Lightsaber._

As his eyes locked onto the imprinted words, he found himself silenced, wide-eyed.

His fingertips hovered above the holodisk. Hesitant, uncertain. He glanced around the room.

He needed to focus, he told himself, but then again — when would he ever get an opportunity like this one?

"Two womprats with one stone," he reassured himself.

He pried the holodisk from its place and tucked it with the other one underneath his arm. As he went through this motion, his eyes found themselves locked onto another title.

_Temple Basics: Coruscant._

And another one.

_Titles and Ranks of the Jedi Order._

And another one.

_Theories: Living Force._

Soon, all of these holodisks found themselves cradled in his arms.

"Five womprats with one stone," he murmured to himself a bit guiltily. His eyes, sparking with boyish excitement, betrayed him.

He made for the nearest table and gently stacked the disks onto its surface. Pulling up a nearby chair and sinking down into it, he let out a shaky breath and picked up the top most disk and clicked it on.

An intense blue light bathed his face and the bookcase behind him. Glowing, periwinkle words filtered down the projected blue screen like water. Luke drank up the words, sentences, phrases he saw there despite not quite understanding what some of them meant. The letters continued to flit past his eyes like streaming car lights—

_The Jedi High Council._

He paused in his mad, fervorous reading and blinked at the title curiously. Quietly, contemplatively, he scanned the article below it.

' _The governing body of the Jedi Order, the Jedi High Council acts as judge and overseer of the Order as a whole. Consisting of twelve Jedi Masters, the Council governs the Jedi Order with autonomy from outside governments._

_Founded in…'_

Luke skimmed through the history of the Council. It was a long and thorough article citing past happenings that stretched all the way back to before Coruscant became a capital planet.

Glancing up from the screen, he gazed around the room and wondered. He wondered how such a long and rich history could have been wiped away from common knowledge, how it could have been whisked, flayed, and twisted into a fairy tale in the blink of an eye. An uneasy thought.

He returned his attention to the screen.

' _Members of the Council:_

_Grand Master: Yoda'_

"Yoda…" Luke breathed with a grin. "He's here…" Pausing once more, he reminisced quietly. "I wonder ..."

' _Current_ _Members:_

_Mace Windu_

_Plo Koon_

_Saesee Tiin_

_Ki-Adi-Mundi_

_Shaak Ti_

_Kit Fisto_

_Depa Billaba_

_Agen Kolar_

_Oppo Rancisis_

_Coleman Kcaj_

_Obi-Wan Kenobi'_

"Wow, Ben," Luke murmured, eyebrows slightly raised, lips turned up into a faint smile, "you really had it going for you, didn't you." Allowing the moment of intense feeling to pass, he continued through the page.

_Past Subjects of Debate of the Council:_

A long list unfolded beneath the headliner and each member of the list had a short excerpt of explanation beneath it. Strange and foreign terms and words. Almost unrecognizable. One selection on the list, however, stood out to Luke.

_The Chosen One._

His eyes narrowed and then jumped to the space below the title.

Empty.

He scrolled up and down to make sure his eyes had not been mistaken.

Empty.

* * *

anomaly 09

" _... Anakin?"_

_Snapping up from the book he has been using as a headrest, Luke blinks blearily around the room. The silver light of the moon has richened into a warmer shade of gold. Dawning light, soft and rosy._

" _Anakin."_

_Basking in the dawn light that falls in between two bookcases, a strange man stands with a strange smile. His hair is long, his beard cleanly cut, his robes crisp and new. He stands there with his arms folded loosely in front of him like a mystical overseer. His gaze seems fixated over Luke's shoulder._

_Luke clears his throat, shakes the remnants of sleep from his head, and answers calmly, almost hesitantly, "Yes — is there something I can help you with?"_

" _Ah, so you can see me," he says to the space over Luke's shoulders._

_Luke blinks, studies the man closely. The man, whom the light of dawn seems to pass through as if the man himself is clear water. Luke stiffens._

" _You're… a Force ghost."_

_The man glances down at Luke as if truly seeing him for the first time. He strokes his beard, amused. "Well, that's the first time I've heard that term being used." He glances back over Luke's shoulder. "I understand that you must be quite confused. Please try to calm yourself."_

_Luke remains silent, already calm._

" _It appears as if we have ended up in a very peculiar, unwarranted situation." The man says, continuing to stroke his beard. "I suspect there is some interference from an outside source beyond our scope of view, but you must remember that is the future that we can change. Not the past."_

_Luke studies the man, follows his gaze over his shoulder, sees nothing. Nothing but a flash of black shadow that dances on the skirt of his vision. Finally, Luke turns to the man, asks, "Who are you?"_

_The man blinks down back at Luke and smiles curiously. "The question, my friend, is — who are_ _**you** _ _?"_

* * *

Snapping up from the book he had been using as a headrest, Luke blinked blearily around the room. The light falling down from the window was warm, gold, soft. Morning. The chirps of morning creatures that echoed in from outside confirmed such a truth.

Yawning, Luke glanced down at the long log of notes he had jotted down on a spare piece of paper he had found. Readable, but barely. He glanced at the holodisks scattered around him and then at the light from the window again.

 _I hope they're not fighting when I get back,_ he thought to himself as he collected his things.

* * *

The morning air was cold and crisp; and the sunlight was like a ghost — soft, faint, intangible. Folding his notes into his robes, Luke allowed the cold to seep into his skin as he stepped out into the library courtyard. The faint chortles and chirps of birds echoed throughout the area and the shadows of their wings danced around the square. He felt like he could stand there listening to the sounds and enjoying the stillness forever —

— if it were not for the fact a particular bird seemed quite fond of him. The bird fluttered down from the sky and perched on his shoulder before tweeting cheerily.

"I'm not a tree, you know," Luke raised a brow at the bird. "Back on the moisture farm, I'd shoot womprats and birds like you alike to protect the crops."

The bird chortled in response.

Luke chuckled. "What do you want?"

The bird seemed to tilt its head at him as if the answer was obvious.

"Oh, I see." He raised a brow in turn, before reaching into his robes and procuring the loaf of bread he had stashed away there. "You don't like me; you like my food."

The bird chirped happily, excitedly.

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Luke broke off several pieces of the bread and scattered them onto the floor.

* * *

When Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped out from the council chambers, he was greeted by a patiently waiting Luminara Unduli. Plo Koon, who had been walking out and conversing with him, greeted Luminara first; and she returned his greeting with a slight bow. The older Jedi then bid both of them a farewell and departed down the hall.

"Master Unduli, what a pleasant surprise." Obi-wan nodded at the black-draped woman before he flashed a charming smile. "I thought you were off world. I wasn't expecting you."

"I returned this morning, Master Kenobi." Master Unduli inclined her head. She motioned to the path ahead of them and together they strolled down the open corridor. The birds chirped noisily as they passed by. There seemed to be an unusual amount of them flying around on this particular day.

"Well, I'm honored to be the first you thought to visit upon your arrival," Obi-Wan responded coyly. He gave a nod at a group Knights that passed them by.

"Actually," Luminara pressed with the same amount of coyness, "I was hoping to get into contact with Knight Skywalker."

"Oh? I must say I'm jealous."

A smile.

"My padawan, Barris, hoped to propose a joint training session between the four of us — Ahsoka included." She explained as they twisted down another hall. "I have been trying to get into contact with Skywalker, but he seems to be absent."

"Yes, well, I suppose we are in the same boat in that regard." Obi-Wan replied, folding his hands behind his back. "However, the reason for that is most likely because he is for once heeding the doctor's orders for bed rest."

"He was injured?" Luminara questioned, somewhat concerned.

"Yes," Obi-wan nodded, dropping his charming smile, "a head injury on the field — the result of a detonator explosion. But, you know Anakin. He's quite durable."

"Yes, quite." She agreed, gently waving off a bird that had fluttered down beside her head. "I'm surprised he resigned himself to bed rest."

"As am I." Obi-wan mused. He paused, humming curiously as a bird nearly made a nest out of his head. They were now approaching one of temple's many courtyards; and it seemed as if their approach was coupled with an increase in density of the avian animals. The hall, in fact, was littered with the hopping, warbling creatures. "One of the younglings must have fed the birds again against the rules," he noted, before he shook his head, "but this is just getting ridiculous."

"Perhaps it is a prank." Unduli suggested, as they rounded the corner and came into view of the courtyard. "I recall you being quite the mischievous youngling when you were younger."

"Yes, well, I've matured quite a bit from then I hope," he responded, raising a brow at a blackbird that came to rest on his shoulder, "with much _scolding_."

When Luminara did not respond, he turned to her and found a rare expression carved onto her face. Surprise, confusion, and curiosity — all of these emotions were folded along the angles of her lips, cheeks, eyes. Obi-wan followed her gaze.

Standing in the middle of a sea of dancing feathers was not a mischievous Jedi youngling but a Jedi Knight. Back pressed against the limestone wall behind him with his eyes cast downwards, Anakin Skywalker stood quietly, serenely, peacefully in the morning light that fell into the courtyard. A faint smile graced his lips in a way that seemed to both suit him and not at the same time.

And as Obi-Wan observed him — him, basking in the sunlight and soaking up the rich ai, the Jedi Master came to a queer realization.

This was the only time Obi-Wan Kenobi had ever seen his former padawan appear so calm, so —

— balanced.


	5. 005: Hated People, 12%

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clam down, guys.

For a brief moment Luke found himself wondering how so many birds could possibly fit into such a small courtyard. If he were back in his primary school on Tatooine — the _only_ school in the area — his teacher would have probably made him calculate exactly how many blue birds, black birds, and red birds would fit into one square of the courtyard. Just thinking of it gave him a headache, but fortunately, he was no longer in primary school nor was he on Tatooine.

Instead, here he was staring down at a sea of squabbling birds. He didn't quite realize he would summon so many with just a single loaf of bread, but he supposed that simply showed how "size matter(ed) not". Despite the high-pitched ruckus of a chorus they made, he found them rather cute. Cuter than the native animals on his home planet at least.

Bending down on his knees, he reached a hand out towards one of the gathered birds. It tweeted at him curiously, before making steady hops towards his extended hand.

"You're the one who begged for the food, aren't you?" Luke questioned, amused.

Pecking at his cold hand, the bird remained silent, almost inquisitive. Odd behavior for a bird, certainly.

"Bonding with birds now, Anakin?" Came a crisp voice that was accompanied by twin shadows that fell over the courtyard. "You need to find a better hobby."

Drawn out from his wonder, Luke snapped up to a rigid stand. His sudden, abrupt movement caused a startling ripple among the sea of birds; and in a flurry red, black, blue, and white, the animals took to the sky, to the trees, to the hall. For a moment, all Luke could see were clouds of swirling feathers — dizzying to the eyes and mind. When the rain of feathers cleared, Luke found himself meeting the gaze of a very disconcerted-looking Ben Kenobi.

"Obi-Wan!"

There was an odd woman, draped from head to toe in shades of black, standing beside the older Jedi. Her eyes were soft and her form was calm and reserved, but Luke could feel the very same resonating aura emanating from her. She was definitely a Jedi too — Luke felt this in his heart and saw it in the glint of the lightsaber that hung at her waist. She felt much different than the white Jedi standing at the temple front, much different from Ahsoka and Caleb Dume. She was probably — Luke realized in slight awe — a Jedi Master.

* * *

For the very first time in a very long time Anakin Skywalker, the eponymous "Hero with no Fear" appeared somewhat flustered. In fact, Obi-Wan had not seen his dear former Padawan seem so flustered since the latter had reunited with Padme Amidala during the years precluding the war.

It was an almost ridiculous sight to behold: the Anakin Skywalker, more stubborn than a rock and more fickle than the weather, covered head-to-toe in feathers and looking like he was a teenager having been caught sneaking out at night. Obi-Wan could actually recall ten times he had caught Anakin sneaking out at night when the Knight had been just a padawan. More than ten times — now that he thought about it. But never had Anakin looked flustered when he had been caught; rather, his pride had always preceded him. And now—

"Is there a reason," Obi-Wan pressed calmly, toyingly, "you decided to break a very simple rule that was taught to you as a youngling?"

"Rule?" Anakin parroted, not once lifting his gaze from Luminara's form. His gaze — although somewhat bleary from what Kenobi assumed was lack of rest — was curious.

"Why, yes, Anakin. About feeding the birds." Obi-Wan replied, tone still biting despite his growing concern. "Rather — about not feeding them."

Turning slowly towards him as if waking from a deep daze, Anakin asked a strange, nonsensical thing: "We aren't allowed to feed the birds? Why?"

Obi-Wan knew Anakin's ticks well enough to realize the question had been serious. There was no drip of sarcasm in his voice nor a coy smirk on his face.

And, almost as if to answer the ridiculous question, a drop of menacing white rocketed down from the storm of dissipated birds and crash landed right on top of Anakin's head. As if to further the point the mess dripped into his eyes.

"That's why." Obi-Wan responded pointedly. "Maintenance can only do so much."

A brief look of shock and then disgust flashed across the Knight's face; and he whipped off the white mess with the back of his hand. Instead of an irritable scowl and a pointed glare — as Obi-Wan had been expecting — only a look of embarrassment was offered. Slightly tinted cheeks and an averted gaze.

"Oh, I," Anakin muttered, "well, I forgot about that. I'm sorry."

_Well, an apology? That's a bit shocking —_

— He thought, before he responded carefully, "Well as much as I'd like to lecture you on the importance of following the doctor's orders as well as following the basic living rules of the Temple, I know you won't listen."

A slightly hurt look flashed across Anakin's face at the remark; and there was a quick snap in the Force at the expression. Obi-Wan was versatile enough in reading Anakin as well as the Force to catch the minute discrepancy; and it surprised him. Luminara — he thought — must have felt the snap in the Force as well.

"Master Skywalker," Luminara spoke after Anakin failed to snap back wittily, " I was hoping that we could share together a joint training session with our padawans on the training grounds —"

Obi-Wan watched carefully as Anakin's gaze snapped up to Luminara's face. The way his eyes traced her face, the way they sharpened calculatingly, inquisitively, curiously — it was not very 'Anakin'-like at all. In fact, ever since they had returned to Coruscant, Anakin had almost been acting distinctly un-Anakin-like. So un-Anakin-like that it almost seemed forced. Something was troubling him, he still had not yet recovered fully from his injuries, or something else entirely — Obi-Wan turned over the possibilities in his mind.

" — but," Unduli continued, inclining her head kindly, "if you are feeling unwell, we could discuss this some other time."

Remaining silent, Anakin studied her. He studied her for a very long time, and she studied him. Obi-Wan studied him as well.

"Master Skywalker?" Luminara pressed.

The slight twinge of pink met Anakin's cheeks again; and the odd glint in his eyes disappeared. Clearing his throat, he said, "Yes. Of course."

Luminara and Kenobi exchanged looks.

"Yes?" Luminara parroted back to him this time. "You wish to make plans for the joint training session now?"

Anakin quickly, furiously, almost comically, shook his head. "No — I mean, yes. I —"

He trailed off, side glancing at Obi-Wan almost as if in a plea for help. Obi-Wan himself had not seen such an expression from the taller man since their days as master and student; and seeing it appear here all these years later vaguely alarmed him.

"Perhaps it is best if this is discussed later." Obi-Wan interjected as he took a step forward. "It appears as if Anakin is in need of rest — as the doctor ordered."

Luminara turned to study Obi-Wan for a moment, before she gave a quiet and understanding nod; and then she turned back to Anakin and smiled just as quietly and understandingly at him, "When you feel that you are rested, please contact me."

"Of course." Anakin replied without hesitation; and his eyes lowered to the ground.

Not seeming to notice this discrepancy that seemed to scream in Obi-Wan's face, Luminara turned towards Kenobi and gave him a respectful bow. Obi-Wan, of course, returned it just as respectfully; and he watched as Luminara offered the same bow — although slightly stiffer — to Anakin. Anakin, who reflected back the same bow — albeit a bit too deeply and a bit too forcefully.

Unduli departed leaving the two in each other's company. The chirps of the birds of filled up the silence.

"Walk with me." Obi-Wan said simply.

And Anakin did.

The temple walkways were somewhat crowded — as usual of the early mornings. Men, women, and others cloaked in robes drifted down the halls beside them.

And as they walked down the halls of the temple with sunlight brushing the top of their heads, Obi-Wan studied Anakin very carefully. The slight twitches of his expression, the trips in his gait, his gaze which darted left and right and up and down at everything and everyone — he noted these oddities down.

He could sense that Anakin was studying him back just as carefully.

"What were you doing in the archives last night?" Obi-Wan asked lightly, casually.

Their gazes met.

There was a sharp twang in the Force; and Anakin's expression lit up with surprise again. However, quickly and almost unexpectedly, the twang and the expression disappeared. Calm returned.

"How… did you know?" Anakin returned the question with a question.

"What else would you be doing in that courtyard?" Obi-wan likewise returned the question with a question. "Unless you've started a bird watching hobby you haven't told me about which is a shame because I'd much like to join you."

Finally, a smile cracked. Pairing the smile with a short, quiet chuckle, Anakin averted his gaze almost shyly, before he returned coyly — "Well, I guess I'll just invite you to birdwatch with me next time."

Obi-wan reflected the smile back at him and paused for a moment, before he tried again, "Did you find anything of interest in the archives?"

Again, Anakin's gaze was averted; and he looked off in the opposite direction. Obi-Wan followed his gaze towards the large stone square that opened up to their left. The warming golden sunlight shone down on there and on the collection of people gathered there. There, younglings, wrapped loosely in linen robes that billowed in the morning air, swung their lightsabers left and right in unison. Ahead of them was a Jedi instructor — Master Illena Xan, if Obi-Wan recalled correctly— who also danced the grounds with his lightsaber. His graceful and practiced movements seemed to set the rhythm of it all.

"Just… things…" Anakin trailed off, eyes lingering.

"Things." Obi-Wan repeated, allowing his gaze to linger as well.

"Yeah, things." Anakin looked back at him. "Jedi things."

Obi-Wan paused, thoughtfully; before he tried one final time: "Anakin, I sense in you a change in you unlike changes I have felt before."

The abrupt statement caused an abrupt change in both Anakin and the atmosphere surrounding him. The Jedi Knight tensed, turned, stared as the air seemed to become saturated with an odd sort of heaviness. And as if to match this heaviness, a cloud drifted lazily over the sun.

"What — What do you mean?"

"Well, if I had to describe this change," he explained simply, "I'd have to say that it feels as if you have found a center within yourself. Balance."

Anakin visibly relaxed and murmured more to himself than anyone else, "It's more like a change in mind than that, I think."

"A change in mind? Hearing you say that after receiving a head injury is more concerning than reassuring."

"Oh — I don't want to make you worry—"

" _That_ makes me worry."

"You... worry a lot, don't you?"

"Only when necessary."

"So all the time?" Anakin turned back to him. He looked truly, startlingly curious. Not a drop of sarcasm in his face or his words.

Obi-wan found himself cracking a smile this time. He did not, however, touch on the subject further and instead eyed his former Padawan while saying slowly, carefully, "I sense something is troubling you, Anakin."

There was a lull of silence in between the two that seemed to contrast with the chatter and noise outside of their bubble. In this silence, Obi-wan could almost see the Knight standing on the edge of some paramount decision. To divulge or not to divulge. That was normal at least — Anakin, always standing on the edge of something whether it be the edge of a ten story tall building or some reckless decision.

"Obi-Wan," Anakin said — slowly with purpose, "I trust you." There was a sharp, burning intensity in his cerulean eyes — or so his master noted — like a blue horizon being set on fire by a sunrise. Calm yet contradictingly stormy.

"... And I you." Obi-wan returned just as slowly. "Anakin, what is it?"

Anakin stopped abruptly in step, causing Obi-Wan to stop just ahead of him and turn towards him with a raised brow. Neither said anything as Obi-Wan expected Anakin to start speaking and — or so the Jedi Master rationalized — Anakin expected _him_ to start speaking. The uncomfortable, lengthy pause lasted for several seconds, before —

"Time in general — the Jedi have a lot of doctrines about it, right?"

 _Very unlike him to dance around the edges_ _of a matter_ — thought Obi-Wan as he replied with a "Relatively, yes. Why?"

"What if…" Anakin paused, trailing off before he tried again: "What if you were given a chance to change things but you're not sure whether or not you're supposed to change things in the first placed what you're supposed to change."

Obi-Wan frowned. Deeply. "Anakin, you _know_ that we cannot change time — the past."

"But, what if —"

"There are no 'what if's, Anakin," Obi-Wan continued, citing back to the Knight things that were cited to him long ago. He folded his arms over his chest, before he finished: "It is ideologies like that that inspire engaging in actions without thinking of consequences and unhealthy desperations that lead to the dark side. You _know_ this."

Anakin quieted at the statement. He didn't look too convinced. In fact, he didn't look too much of anything. His eyes were lowered and his brows furrowed in that strange manner of contemplation he'd been using often as of late. And then—

— just as the overhanging cloud slid over and past the sun, Anakin's gaze rose and his face brightened in the warming light.

"It's not the past that we need to change. It's the future. The anomaly might be right in front of us. "

— saying such an irrational thing, Anakin grinned a grin that Obi-Wan had to press himself not to reflect. Suppressing the urge and squinting against the sunlight, Obi-Wan centered himself and gently placed a hand on the taller man's shoulder.

"Anakin," he said, using the soft tone he'd stopped using long ago, "are you having visions?"

Anakin blinked at the hand and then the man. "You — you really do care about me, don't you?"

An odd question — but Anakin had been asking so many odd questions now that they themselves did not seem too odd anymore. Still, it was brought on with emotional forwardness and awkwardly, touchily, unashamedly phrased. And for once, the ever-so-witty Obi-Wan Kenobi could not find an immediate response—

"Well — of course I—"

A shadow fell across their path, their conversation, cutting Obi-Wan off short. Following this long shadow with his eyes to its tip, he found himself meeting the gaze of Master Mace Windu, looking somber and serious as always. Even the chirping birds and golden sunrise couldn't seem to improve his constant unyielding mood — an observation Obi-Wan noted that he'd jokingly quip to Anakin later. Anakin.

Anakin, who was currently staring. Again. This time at Mace Windu. Mace Windu, who returned the stare with a dull sort of intensity.

"Kenobi, Skywalker." Mace greeted the two with a deep nod at the first and a quick one at the last.

"Master Windu, you've returned. Welcome back." Obi-Wan nodded back at him. And as he spoke the title, he noticed Anakin straighten at the corner of his vision. "Is there something you need of me?"

"Yes and Skywalker too." Windu stated bluntly, returning his gaze to his fellow councilman. "The Chancellor is requesting our presence for a debrief of our mission."

"Mission?" Anakin repeated, looking off to the side with furrowed brows. Obi-wan and Windu both followed his gaze; and when they found nothing there, they returned their gazes to him.

"Is there something you want to say, Skywalker?" Windu pressed.

Anakin started and shook his head once, before he replied evenly: "No — just lost in my thoughts. Thinking the mission over."

"You've written a report." Windu stated more than asked.

A brief look of confusion answered the statement, and Windu frowned more deeply than before.

"Anakin has been a bit out of sorts. He received a head injury in the field, and he's not quite recovered yet." Obi-Wan explained, taking a step forward. "I've already logged all the needed documents." As he finished the statement, he could feel Anakin's gaze pressing up against his back. A look of appreciation and gratitude, perhaps. Even so, Obi-Wan sensed a strange distance somewhere in between them.

"I see." Windu responded neutrally, before he turned to Anakin and frowned even more deeply than before — which Obi-Wan frankly did not think was possible. "You're supposed to be recovering and resting then, yet you're here."

"I got… distracted." Anakin answered, sounding strangely earnest and honest. Even guilty. "... I'm sorry."

Mace raised a brow and shifted his gaze to Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan who inclined his head as if saying 'I told you so' in that subtle witty way of his. The former shortly returned his attention to the Jedi Knight and delivered with an air of finality, "Since you're here, you'll come with us to the debrief. The Chancellor specifically requested _your_ presence urgently. When we're done, I do not want to see you engaging in any extracurricular activities around the temple until you've recovered. We need you in your best shape."

There was no room to argue.

* * *

Standing inside the belly of Coruscant's fastest lightning tram, Luke spied outside the cart window. Nothing of the outside was even remotely discernable. Just blurs of red and purples and blues and occasional streaks of startling green or gold — cars, probably, breaking the airway speed limit. The limit of airway was probably 100; and the tram itself was probably going "lightning fast at 500!" or so the posters littering the tram station had said. The ever-so-present high-pitched whine of wind whipping against the outside metal of the tram seemed to confirm the breakneck speed.

Squinting harder and leaning in deeper, he tried his best to make out the blurs of colors. To no avail. For a moment, he tried to imagine himself reaching out past the window and trailing his fingers along the rivers of meshed color. Would his fingertips be stained with shades of red and purple? Blue? Probably not. But was it fun to imagine? Most definitely. Imagining himself going this fast around the city planet on a speeder was also fun.

Something pressed into his arm and drew his thoughts away from the window. He turned just in time to see Obi-Wan pull away from him and incline his head in Master Mace Windu's direction. Mace stood several feet away from them on the opposite side of the tram cart. He was a rather intimidating figure — tall, dark, brooding almost. Very unlike the other Jedi Luke had come across here.

 _Maybe he's stressed from being on the council,_ Luke reasoned, _even though Ben is on the council and he looks happier than I've ever seen him._

"Sorry — what?"

The simple two word question didn't seem to please Mace Windu at all. And with heavily furrowed brows and set crossed arms, he repeated: "I _said_ that you should consult Obi-Wan about his reports if we are to make this efficient as possible."

 _Yikes_.

"Right. Of course"

Mace's brows furrowed deeper.

… _I'm sure he means well. He's a Jedi._

Putting this thought forward in reassurance, Luke turned to Obi-Wan and readied himself for a length explanation.

Separatist blockade of a planet. Check.

Request for Republic support. Check.

Assistance in the form of two Jedi and their respective clone trooper squadrons. Check.

Stalemate at the western border. Check.

Arrival of another Jedi and trooper squadron. Check.

Victory on the western border. Check.

Planet declares allegiance to Republic and refuses trade with Confederation. Check.

Return of the initial company while latter company remained to handle negotiations. Check.

It was a rather petty war — or so Luke thought as he went over the details in his head.

"All wars are petty in some ways, Anakin." Obi-Wan clipped with nonchalance. "People are rather petty, after all."

A somber look passed over the Obi-Wan's face as he finished the statement which caused something in Luke's chest to pang in return. "There's always good to balance that though," Luke found himself saying. "That's how wars end. That's why the Order exists. Hope for those kinds of things.

Obi-Wan studied him for a moment — for longer than a moment — before he gave a contemplative nod. "I suppose you're right."

The conversation lulled despite Obi-Wan looking as if more needed to be said. No attempts were made at conversation, however, so Luke returned his attention the window. Re-submerged himself in the scenery — in his thoughts.

Luke was somewhat alarmed at the rate at which things were going. Arriving in the past was one thing. Finding himself in his father's body was another. Interacting with his father's friends and acquaintances was also another thing. Getting dragged along to some senate meeting was a whole other matter — good recon at least, or so Luke reassured himself. And yet another thing was profoundly, unbelievably, exceptionally —

— embarrassing himself while doing all of these things.

" _Well, kid_ ," — he could hear Han's voice dripping with sarcasm in his ears — " _not_ _everyone gets to talk to a Jedi Master with their hair full of bird crap everyday so be proud that you're the one and only."_

The memory made his face burn so he quickly, efficiently folded the thought away. Instead of thinking any more thoughts of past occurrences, he turned his thoughts to the present.

Here. Here, standing beside two living breathing Jedi Masters of the standing Jedi Order. Here, about to meet the mysterious old Chancellor of the even older Republic. Here.

Here, on the lightning tram, hurtling towards Coruscant's Senate hall. A Senate hall that was beginning to come into view as the blurs of reds and purples sharpened and solidified. A copper building with copper roofs and copper windows. Copper people smiling copper smiles and whispering to each other with copper words.

Luke calmed his rising nerves and followed Obi-Wan and Windu off of the tram and onto the station platform. He felt somewhat out of place there — with his father's worn out rubber shoes and crisp black Jedi robes — among the extravagantly dressed politicians drifting in and out of the station. But he was used to the feeling.

Centering himself, he followed the two Jedi Masters past gold-gilded archways, through gem encrusted archways, and away from crowds whose smiles seemed like porcelain. Those in such crowds would turn elegantly, wave amicably, and smile kindly as the Jedi passed them by.

" _Politics, politics,_ " Luke could hear Leia chime in the back of his mind.

Finally, after riding in an elevator that gleamed so gold that Luke was blinded for most of the ride, the trio of Jedi arrived at the very top floor of the Senate hall and made for the first doors they saw. The doors were painted a deep maroon shade — only several shades duller than the robes and helmets of the men who stood on both sides of the doors. Cherry red guards who were almost as stiff and poised as the guards Luke had seen at the temple. Almost.

Off to the side of the doorway stood two men who were avidly conversing with each other. They were almost mirror images of each other — both with the same eyes and mouth and face, both with the same dulled-out white armor fitted to their bodies. But their expressions were different just as the colors dappling their armour were different. And the way they felt — that was different too. Luke recognized their distinct, sharp presences.

"Generals." Rex greeted them all with a sturdy salute which Cody mirrored in unison. He paused, inclining his head in Luke's direction. "Feeling better, General Skywalker?"

"Better than before," Luke responded honestly, heart hammering from the sudden spotlight. A heart which hammered faster as he felt pointed looks pricking at his skin.

Stepping forward in between the two before any more conversation could be made, Mace Windu asked calmly, "Rex, Cody, you have your reports ready?"

The two men responded affirmative.

"Let's make this quick and efficient then."

And with that phrase hanging in the air, Mace Windu passed the cherry red guards and pressed through the maroon doors. Obi-Wan followed shortly behind him followed by Rex and Cody after a short pause in which both gave Luke an inquiring look. Luke, however, had simply waved them on and then stood by himself in front of the the open doorway.

_Pay attention. Act well._

Collecting himself and sharpening his focus, Luke stepped over the threshold.

The room was red. A lighter shade of red than the doors but a deeper shade than the guards. The light that bled in from the window on the other end of the room gave the color a saturated richness.

In this sea of red, Mace Windu began to relay the details and specificities of events that unfolded before Luke's arrival. He relayed this information to a man who was wrapped in crimson robes decorated with copper linkages. A man who stood at the center of the room. A pleasant-looking man.

Red, copper, red, copper.

The copper man flashed him a copper smile.

Copper, red, copper, red.

"Ah, Anakin," came the copper man's copper voice, saturated with red. "I see you've come after all."

Red. Copper. Red.

— Luke felt sick.

— 16%.

* * *

Han and Leia did not bother to stop by the apartment complex on the first night. Instead, they took off to the streets. They weaved down abandoned alleyways, blended in with swarming crowds, mingled with backwater gamblers, and observed the twinkling city lights from overarching platforms. Together they did these things — hand in hand.

"The people aren't happy with the Senate," Leia commented during one of their pit stops to a dingy bar located on one of the lower strips of the city planet. There was disbelief in her voice and fire in her eyes. "Some want it dissolved."

"People are never happy with the government." Han replied, flipping a copper Republic credit in between his knuckles — he'd won it during a one of the backwater gambling matches. "People are never happy. Period."

Leia, for once, did not bite back. Instead, she watched the copper credit dance around his hand.

When the disk of the sun began to peek its head up above the glittering horizon, they split up. To cover more ground. To give each other time alone to think. A mutual sort of understanding.

And such an understanding led Leia here. Here, back in the Coruscanti Archives. Here, staring up at the long case of holodisks and books catalogued under the letter 'A'.

She took a deep and pressed her palm against the soft spines of the books, the hard spines of the disks. They felt cool beneath her palm; and she could almost feel the grooves of the titles scratching underneath her fingertips.

Ab—

Ac—

Ad—

She skipped a few.

Ak—

Al—

She paused, took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

Alderaan.

Her eyes misted as they laid onto the singular word.

" _Funny how small things like words can move us like that,_ " Luke would say if he were standing beside her now; he would then clasp her hand in his and say quietly, carefully: _"It's alright to cry a little, Leia._ "

But Leia did not cry. No, to cry would mean that she had time cry. Having time to cry would mean that she was not dedicating enough time moving forward for Alderaan.

So, she blinked away what little wetness there was in her eyes and reached for the holodisk —

 _Research,_ she told herself testily

— but just as her fingers brushed against the disk spine, another hand bumped against her own. It was a bony hand. Soft-palms, calloused fingertips, manicured fingernails. The signs of a politician dabbling skillfully in blue collar affairs. Military probably, Leia hypothesized, given the 'current' times.

"I made a reservation for this holodisk, young lady."

Leia's eyes began to burn. She did not know why. She blinked once, twice in an attempt to brush off the sensation. The irritating burn remained.

"Did you hear me, miss? I reserved this holodisk."

It was probably that voice. Cold like old steel, yet hot like freshly molten metal. Sickeningly sweet like baby talk yet bitingly sour like that of an old school teacher. New yet familiar.

Leia turned.

His hair was brown — the first thing she noticed. His face was fuller too. More filled out by youth and more pleasant times. His eyes, however, were the same. Bottomless pits of hunger. A distance in them that separated him from the voices of the masses.

"Tarkin."

The word tumbled out of her mouth — bitter, dry, distasteful, like sand.

Wilhuff Tarkin, future Grand Moff of the Galactic Empire, stared down at her with raised brows.

And suddenly—

— _Leia is standing on the polished black linoleum floors of the Death Star's navigation room. The cold of the floor seeps into her feet, travels up her legs, and catches in her spine. She refuses to shiver — head held high, lips pursed into a frown. Her eyes meet his._

_His eyes, unmoved, wolffish, more frigid than the floor. His hair is gray. His face thinned out by unpleasant times and age. And his voice:_

_"I think it is time we demonstrated the full power of this station. Set your course for Alderaan."_

_No._

_There is no sound as the beam of pure planetary energy hurtles towards the glass planet._

_No._

_No sound as a sweltering red orb engulfs the seaside of the planet._

_No._

_No sound as the red eats away at the oceanfront cities. No sound as warm flesh, brittle bones, and dangling limbs are seared away into nothing. No sound as her father turns towards the oncoming tidal wave, no sound as he holds her mother's hands in his own._

_No one has time to scream. Not even her._

_No!_ —

"Miss, if you wish to speak to file a complaint with as it appears all young girls wish to do these days I suggest you contact my secretary's secretary."

He was leaning in close to her now with his hands folded neatly behind his back. His tone, condescending just as she remembered (or just as she would remember), echoed through the cases, through the walls, through her bones.

She probably looked pathetic in front of him. Dressed in old and dirt-caked camo, dirt and grime still smudged on her face.

" _Leia. Don't act crazy now."_

" _Leia. Try to be calm_. _He's not the man you know him to be._ "

Different voices whispered ideologies and responses and worries into her ears. Han, Luke, mom, dad, her people—

"Miss, are you unwell?"

— and of all these voices echoing in her head, Leia found herself obeying only one of them. Her own.

She reached out for the holodisk and wrapped her fingers around it's body. A halting hand clasped itself above her own. Polite yet unyielding.

"As I've said before, I have made a reservation for this holodisk."

_Shut up._

"Reservations at the archives," Leia hissed, punching each word, filling every syllable with potent venom, "can only be made by people who are loyal to the _people_ of the Republic." She turned to him, eyes burning with something other than tears. "Not some self-serving, rank-climbing scruff!"

And with that she grasped the disk tightly and ripped it away from the man's grasp. He pulled back in surprise; and she had just enough time to hear him give a flabbergasted shout, before she peeled away and hurtled down the hall. Running —

— she was running, Quickly, without a falter, through those doors, down that street. She pushed past everyone, everything, not stopping to see because—

— her vision was flooded with the color of these things — their glares and grimaces filled out the corner of her eyes. A sickening swirl of apathy, fear, ignorance, greed, confusion.

"Oh, hello—"

She pushed passed this waving woman, who was standing off to the side of the road beneath a plume umbrella, as well. She did not look back. She couldn't bring herself too. If she even through a thoughtless glance over her shoulder, she would be caught in that man's gaze again. Caught aboard the Death Star, motionless as everything flitted away to ash.

"Padme!"

— a deep voice cut through the gathered crowd. A voice more like a memory. Leia could not tell if the voice was a figment of the past or an actual happening occurring in the 'present'. Despite her curiosity and the dull ache in her heart, she refused to look back. Instead, she continued running with the holodisk dedicated to her planet clutched tightly to her chest.

* * *

anomaly 10

_A man who you last had last seen as your enemy is now standing in front of you as a friend. He wears a warm smile — not too bright, not too polite. A perfect smile. But—_

— _in your memory, his smile is cold._

_In your memory, his hand is extended just like it is now. Ghost fingertips spread reachingly, sparking with ribbons of blue light. Lighting crackling as particles collide in the air. And—_

— _pain._

_You can feel it rippling through your body years into the future — or maybe you feel the tingles lingering from a couple days ago in the past. At this point it is hard to tell because the man in front of you blurs with his smile many things: the past and the present, logic and dream. The world spins, twists, folds on into itself._

_You wonder if you're the only who is experiencing this dysphoria. You must be. You must be because everyone is smiling perfect, little smiles. Speaking in perfect, little words to a perfect, little old man. A man who smiles a perfect smile as he wipes ten thousand lives away off of his chessboard with only the flick of a hand._

_How can they not see it?_

_The smile behind his smile._

_This man, this politician, this tyrant, this murderer._

_How can they not see it?_

_The whole world screams at you — at this obvious truth standing in front of you. But you are the only one who can see it._

* * *

The sensation was seemingly one without meaning. Even its existence was questionable. So short, so abrupt that it could have been anything. But the sensation was sharp, like a flick of a whip, like a crack of thunder, like a prick to the finger. Sharp, intense, powerful.

A tremor in the intricate web of the Force. A tremor which shivered outwards from a single point.

Obi-Wan, following this invisible tremble with his senses, turned his head. Anakin stood at the end of his vision. Unmoving, quiet — unnervingly so. Almost like a statue, if it were not for the fact that his left hand was clenched so tightly that it trembled.

Windu seemed to have felt the tremor emanating from Anakin as well. After finishing his portion of the debrief, he averted his gaze from the elderly man standing in front of him to the young man standing behind him. It was a subtle aversion of the gaze. Almost unnoticeable. Unlike the cold overtone that was swallowing atmosphere.

Behind him, Obi-Wan could see Anakin's Captain frowning.

Even the Chancellor seemed to somehow feel this disturbance as his pleasant expression fell for a missable second. The next second saw to its return.

"Anakin," the Chancellor pressed, kind and gentle and careful — _like a perfect politician_ , Obi-Wan thought; but his expression noticeably cracked for another missive second as the addressed startled at his tone. "I heard you were injured during your mission. I know I specifically requested your presence, but you did not have to come if you were not feeling well."

There was a pause. A cold and thin pause. A step in the wrong spot and the silence would crack like ice.

And in that frozen moment, Obi-Wan witnessed the strangest, the oddest, the queerest anomaly yet.

Anakin Skywalker, eyes unreadable and lips eerily only slightly upturned (like a politician), responded in an even voice: "It wasn't any trouble. If the Order needs me, I'm there." There was a distance in his eyes, in his words, in his entire demeanor. A strange calm that did not match the tremor felt earlier.

"Oh, well, of course." The Chancellor replied. His voice was thin as was his smile. "The Order is blessed to have such a loyal Jedi among its ranks."

Anakin did not answer.

On a whim, Obi-Wan gave a quick tug on the invisible rope — the aged and old training bond — in between them.

The rope swayed.

Anakin did not answer.

Throwing another quick glance in the Knight's direction, Kenobi stepped forwards and cleared his throat — "Well, it appears as if we are all still in need of rest so I'll make my report as quick and thorough as possible so we may all enjoy well-deserved rest."

Again, Obi-Wan could feel that strange and grateful look boring into his back.

He tugged on his training bond again — this time with purpose.

Nothing.

* * *

The meeting had drawn to an end. Luke was sure of it. Ben had quickly, efficiently given his end of the report and had left.

So why — Luke wondered — was he still here.

Here, standing in front of this pleasantly smiling man. This pleasantly smiling man who Ben had told him to defeat. This pleasantly smiling man who Obi-Wan had smiled just as pleasantly at. This pleasantly smiling man who called himself the 'Chancellor' here and the 'Emperor' there.

It felt like a dream. Too unbelievable to be real.

"Anakin, my boy," the pleasantly smiling man drew, drawing Luke out of his thoughts, "I appreciate you for staying after for our little talks despite your weariness. I really do enjoy them."

_Stop it._

"Of course, Chancellor," Luke replied, keeping his even smile in place. "But I really should—"

The man closed the gaping space in between them. "Are you alright, Anakin?"

_Stop it._

A hand ghosted over Luke's shoulder. Soft, comforting, reassuring. And yet, Luke could feel a river of searing electricity rippling through his bloodstream like a ghost.

_Stop it._

"I'm fine. Thanks for the concern." He replied, curt, simple. The elder man's hand was heavy on his shoulders — or perhaps it was the air that was heavy. Suffocating, even. "But I really should be going."

"Going?" The Emperor — the Chancellor — repeated. A concerned frown took hold of his pleasant smile. "Going where, my dear boy?"

_Don't call me that._

"Home." Luke stated, breathing out slowly, releasing everything he could into the Force. "To rest. I'm not feeling too good actually."

The Chancellor drew back in surprise, before his eyebrows raised in an odd manner of understanding. "Of course," he said, "your health is the most important thing, Anakin."

_Shut up._

"Thanks for your concern, Chancellor."

The concern felt real.

— 20%.

* * *

Obi-Wan Kenobi was standing a little ways away from the doors leading to the Chancellor's office when they flew open. Master Windu and Captain Rex, who both had been waiting patiently beside him for the same person for different reasons, turned at the sound of the chipped wood scraping along the polished floorboards.

Anakin appeared in the frame of the doorway; and even from such a distance, Obi-Wan could tell that something was amiss.

Anakin Skywalker appeared serene. Too serene. His shoulders were loose, his arms left folded behind him. If circumstances had been different Obi-Wan would have been glad that his former Padawan has achieved some semblance of calm. But circumstances were not different; and Anakin's odd behavior warranted some thorough investigation.

And as Mace had suggested only moments earlier, perhaps a full debrief and evaluation was in order. Obi-wan was not too keen on the evaluation aspect but his loyalty to the Order as well as his concern for Anakin preceded him.

Mace started towards the Knight as the doors behind the latter began to slide to a close with a —

— click!

The sound resonated as did another sound — softer, faster — shortly afterwards. Footsteps:

After sweeping the hall with his gaze — a gaze which did not even seem to register them — Anakin turned. He turned, dropped his folded hands, and let out a quiet breath. A breath which seemed to echo through the Force. And then, he began to walk. In the opposite direction.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan called out.

But Anakin did not respond — did not seem to hear. Instead, he quickened his pace into a brisk walk. Weaving past smiling senators and whistling droids; skidding along the tiled floors of the hall; breathing, panting.

"Skywalker!" — it was Windu this time who shouted the Knight's name.

Unfortunately, the sound was drowned out by another sound. Bodies snapping, colliding, falling.

Anakin had run into someone. A clone, by the looks of his armor. His armor which was painted with dapples of worn-out blue. In the 501st then. The tattoo that was printed onto the corner of the the soldier's forehead distinguished him from the clone standing flabbergasted beside him, while also echoing his name.

 _Fives_ — Obi-Wan identified. One of the more loyal and more reckless soldiers. A criteria — it seemed — for Anakin's squadron.

"Sorry, sorry." Anakin stuttered in a rush as he haphazardly eased the trooper to his feet. "Are you okay?"

"Y-Yes, General," came the confused response. "Are you—"

But the Jedi General was gone before the question was asked. Weaving, skidding, breathing, panting. And then only a second after, Obi-Wan could no longer distinguish Anakin's back from the swarm of smiling politicians.

Windu turned back to him and then frowned at Rex. "Where is he going?"

"Haven't a clue, sir." Rex answered, eyebrows raised, lips tipped downwards. If it had just been him and Obi-Wan standing there in the whispering hall, the latter was certain that the former would have said something more. Instead Rex paused, giving a quick, respectful nod in Obi-Wan's direction after sparing a glance in Fives's. "If you'd excuse me, General."

"Of course, Rex."

Obi-Wan watched him depart to Fives's side before, he turned to meet Windu's gaze.

"Have Anakin report to the Council for a debrief when you come into contact with him again." — like always, Windu was concise, unrelenting.

" _If_ I come into contact with him again. He has been distant since we've come back from the mission. Unusually quiet." — like always, Obi-wan danced with his words.

"You think it's the injury from the battle."

"... I suppose it is."

* * *

anomaly 11

_A feeling bubbles at the pit of his stomach. A foreign, familiar feeling. A feeling that has stayed with him since birth and still remains buried in his heart yet a feeling he has overcome over the passage of four years. Fear._

_Elsewhere a frowning and troubled, old, copper man feels the tremor. He grins._


	6. 006: Padawan & Politics, 21%

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Please, no more brilliant ideas, you guys."

The copper buildings blurred into blended smudges of bronze, tin, steel, and rust. The pale blue backdrop of the sky that peeked up in between the reaching skyscrapers acted as the only constant. Everything else blurred around him. Smudges of color and sound.

Taking a deep breath, Luke looped around another corner. But the singular breath was not enough. The air was too heavy, too thick and soaked with soot and smoke and pollution, as were his robes. They weighed down on his body, on his chest. Almost suffocating.

_Calm yourself. Think._

He spun around another corner. And another one.

_The Chancellor of the Republic. The Emperor. The Sith Lord. There's no mistaking it. It's him._

His rubber footfalls clipped softly, quickly against the steel alleyway floor.

_The Jedi. They were friendly with him, and he was friendly with them. Why?_

And down another corner.

_Maybe. Maybe he's not — not yet a — no. He is. He's a Sithlord. I know it. I can feel that it's him. So, why? How?_

And down another one.

_They must not know. But how can they not know? Can't they feel it?_

And down another.

_He must be hiding himself someho—_

The thought was jarred to a close as his body _cracked!_ against another leaving him and the other in a messy tangle of limbs.

"I really need to stop running into people," he muttered to himself with a shake of his head. Straightening himself shortly after, he reached over to the still prostrate body panting heavily beside him. "Hey, are you alri— Leia…?"

Leia Organa blinked up at him with eyes that burned with a fiery intensity — a fiery intensity that died away as recognition took its place. "Luke," she greeted in between heaving pants of breath, "you need to keep an eye out, you know."

Luke offered her both a smile and his hand, a hand which she took gratefully. And as he pulled her to a stand, he came to notice two strange things. One, a holodisk was clasped tightly in her left hand; and, two, Leia was—

Luke frowned, pressed his hand against her arm as if for support. "Are you alright, Leia?"

She pulled away from him and hugged the holodisk closer to her body before she lifted her chin. "Don't have time to be anything other than that do I." As her eyes made contact with his, however, she paused and reflected his expression back to him. "Luke, are _you_ alright?"

Luke dropped his hand at the question and averted his gaze. "I…It's nothing. I just met with someone… that I'm not a fan of."

Leia sighed, turned, pressed her back up against the grimy wall of the alleyway. "We seem to have the same luck, Luke."

Luke studied her for a moment in surprise, before he joined her against the alleyway wall. Allowing a brief pause of silence to pass, he glanced at her. And then he tried, "Who?"

"Tarkin in the flesh."

Her words held red venom; and Luke could feel her anger, her hatred seep into the air around her. He studied the cracks in the ground.

"Oh… I see…"

She blinked over at him. "You?"

He moved his study to his mechanical hand for a moment before he answered. "The… Emperor."

Leia dropped her crossed arms. Stared. Grabbed his arm. "You met the Emperor?! Luke, are you alright?!"

"I'm fine." He reassured her with a smile. "I think — the Jedi that I was with… they called him the 'Chancellor'."

Leia's eyes narrowed and then widened.

"Like the Chancellor of the Republic." Luke finished, shaking his head. "But they didn't know. He's hiding from them somehow or maybe —" He paused mid-sentence, lost in thought before he continued: "Leia… I think — I think this is where it all happens. The beginnings of it, I mean — or, probably — the beginning started way before this. When the Republic becomes the Empire. When he became appointed Chancellor. Somehow… the Emperor he…"

Leia let out a steady breath and then rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"I know that it sounds like nonsense, but—"

"It doesn't sound like nonsense, Luke." She reassured him, hugging the disk closer to her body. "Bail — he… He used to talk of the old days of the Republic. About the Chancellor. He had suspicions — not that he was a Sith or whatever, but that his words did not match his goals." Leia blinked down and turned the holodisk over in her sweaty palms. "He said everything was a mess when the Republic fell. The history of it was even more of a mess which the Empire helped make even worse, of course." She shook her head and blinked at him. "He said that everyone was too busy hating each other to even notice."

Luke frowned at the lengthy explanation, before inclining his head. "It seems like the lines between things during this time are a lot more blurry than how they are in our time."

"You could say that again." She scoffed in response. "Not to mention how rude some people are."

"And the currency," Luke added with a slim smile.

"And the limits on the speedway!" Leia exclaimed, returning the smile with less withhold. "Our taxi driver got pulled over for going five over five-hundred — as if that's fast!"

"Well." Luke raised his brows. "That's top speed for the Falcon."

Leia blinked at him. She blinked at him and then barked out an abrupt laugh which Luke mirrored with his own quiet chuckle. The conversation then lapsed into silence as they spied on the smiling, chattering pedestrians ambling along the walkway. For a brief moment, Luke wondered what kind of lives they were living now and what kinds of lives they would be living when the war ended.

"Leia," Luke finally whispered, turning over to her, "I think the anomaly we need to change is _this_."

He could tell by the way her eyes sparked in the dulling light that no more needed to be said.

* * *

Han found that the eponymous dark-lord-magician-of-the-sith's apartment was more than several octaves short of intimidating. In fact, surprisingly it was rather plain. No death traps at the entrance, no morbid nor antique decor, no dead bodies laid out at the entrance as a warning. Lit dully by light that streamed through drawn metal blinders and littered with scraps of metal parts and copper wirings, the whole apartment screamed normal.

Han eyed the peach-colored wallpaper, eyed the miniature sport speeder replicas that were displayed on a cabinet lining the left wall, eyed the robes messily strewn out on the small bed, eyed the small door that led to a full shower room. Rubbed the back of his neck, and then looked over his shoulder—

"Chewie, what do you—"

He dropped his hand.

"Oh, right."

He stepped over the threshold of the entrance and began to stroll around the complex. It was only a couple steps in that the tip of his shoe smacked against a stray object. Raising a brow, he bent down, picked it up, and turned it over in his hand. Cool to the touch and glinting silver in the full light.

A miniature power converter.

"A tech junkie." He noted with raised brows. "Not surprised."

He tossed the object back over his shoulder and did not pay any heed to the noisy rattle it made as it crashed against the floorboards. Instead, he moved up to the nearest desk and began to rifle through the toppling scrap heap pile he found there. A screw, another power converter, a magnetizing conductor.

He whistled low, before reaching down to pick the least complex mechanical part he could see: a disposable holodisk. He clicked it on. He clicked it on and was almost blinded by the bright orange and yellow letters that jumped from its body—

CORUSCANTI SPICED FLATBREAD.

THE BEST ON CORUSCANT.

FAST DELIVERY.

CALL NOW!

"So the dark lord of the Empire has a weakness for fastfood. Alright."

He eyed the blinking letters with contemplation, before he reached over to the com device that rested on the table.

It was an hour later that a knock at the door reunited him with Leia and Luke.

…

"Well," Han whistled, tossing a stray power converter up and down in the air, "that is why you leave outside recon to me. I don't attract half as much trouble as you to do. You two are like magnets for that stuff." He shook his head and tossed the converter back onto its rightful place on the desk. "The Emperor and the Grand Moff all in one day."

Luke, idly turning over a plastic speeder model he'd picked up in his hands, only hummed in response. Leia, on the other hand, sent the former smuggler a raised brow from where she sat on the bed. Her clothes — a smart robe set that had been laying out on the bed — were damp, her dark rope of hair leaving droplets of water on the floorboards.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Han." She said coyly, running a hand through her hair. "I think that you have worse luck than the both of us combined. You're simply transferring it to us."

Her words were less biting than usual — or so Luke noticed. Probably the product of finally being able to get a well-deserved, steaming shower. A shower which she claimed as soon as she had entered the apartment.

"Seriously? Luke, back me up here." Han snapped in protest.

"She has a point, you know." Luke responded, somewhat amused. Pausing, he placed the speeder model back at its original place on top of the cabinet. It had been an older model of one of his favorites. "You _are_ the one who ended up as a wall painting."

"Kid, don't bring that up." Han snapped again, looking more than somewhat peeved. "That was not a good time for me."

Luke offered the man an apologetic lopsided grin. "Sorry, Han. How about we all agree that we all share equally bad luck?"

"Thought you said that with your whole Jedi thing that you didn't believe in luck."

"Belief is one thing."

Han made a face before he threw himself down onto a small leather couch that was nestled into a corner of the living space. The leather crackled against the dirt on his clothing, but he didn't seem to notice nor care. Stretching his limbs out, he yawned.

"Well, for all that talk, Han," Leia pressed, raising a brow, "I hope you have something to show for it."

Han snapped up at the statement and pointed a swaggering finger first at Luke and then at Leia: "I just won us one or two things that are hard to get by."

"Money?" Leia scoffed, before she inclined her head in Luke's direction. "Luke's already got that handled with Vader's wallet."

Luke frowned at the latter name but pressed forward and sank down onto the bed beside Leia. He turned to Han with a curious expression. "What's the second thing, Han?"

A pause; and then, a grin.

"Allies."

"Allies?" Luke and Leia repeated in unison before they exchanged looks.

"Punchclock allies."

"So," Luke tried, thrumming his fingers in thought, "you mean bounty hunters."

Leia frowned, before she ran her hand through her hair and whipped the mass over her shoulder. "Well," she said, "not as respectable as I was hoping, but we've worked with them before."

Smirking with what Luke assumed was some sort of internal triumph, Han kicked his legs back up on the sofa and sank back into its cushions. He stopped midway through this action, however, and frowned at Luke.

"What is it?" The Jedi frowned back at him.

Han rubbed his chin, before he replied — "While I was out mingling with the common folk, one of the bounty hunters I talked to was carrying a lightsaber. Two of 'em actually — didn't know you mystics carried more than one."

"Lightsabers?" Luke frowned deeper.

"A rogue Jedi? A thief? Who knows." Han shrugged, before finally relaxing himself into the couch. "She seemed reliable though. Very bitey. Bald."

"We can't be too trusting now." Leia cut in, eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a frown that was deeper than Luke's. "Especially since we're _here_."

Luke studied her from the corner of his eye for a moment, before he turned back to his other companion. After pausing in thought for several moments, he asked — "What was her name?"

"Didn't have one, she said."

* * *

It was an hour later that there was another knock at the door.

Han rolled off of the sofa that he'd made his home and sauntered over to the sound. A soft whooshing echoed throughout the apartment as the door unbuckled from its clasps and slid open.

A man stood on the other side of the doorway. A man wrapped in heavy robes that hung loosely on his small frame. A _ginger,_ robe-wearing man whose eyebrows were raised somewhat in surprise.

"You the delivery boy?" Han asked, leaning against the door frame.

"I don't believe I look the part." The man responded. His voice was crisp, elegant, familiar. Dripping with bite and sarcasm. "And if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing at my friend's apartment?"

The familiarity rang again. Han could almost see it. He squinted, leaned closer, raised both brows. "Wait a minute — Ben?!"

Leia snapped up from the couch behind him just as Ben Kenobi frowned in confusion. Before Ben could even open his mouth, however, Leia pushed herself in front of Han and whispered breathlessly—.

"Ben!"

The name obviously meant nothing to the Jedi as he quirked an eyebrow and rubbed his chin almost thoughtfully. "Well, hello… And it's Obi-wan Kenobi, miss."

Han did not miss the sultry tone hidden in the greeting and made a face of utter horror as he pictured in his mind's eye his Ben speaking in the same tone.

"Hey, eyes over here, bud." The former smuggler frowned, snapping his fingers to draw away the Jedi's attention.

Leia rolled her eyes at the action and stepped over the threshold. She blinked slowly, crossed her arms, smiled. "Is there something we can help you with?"

"Yes," the familiar man said with a distant, unfamiliar tone, "I need to speak with Anakin Skywalker — who lives here last time I checked. I was not aware of him having guests over so soon."

Han leaned forward, jerking his head back to the closed door several feet behind him. The door leaked steam out from its cracks; and in the sudden silence, a torrent of pitter patters could be heard emanating from behind it.

"Kid is a bit preoccupied at the minute."

Obi-Wan looked unconvinced. Nonplussed even. It was a strange and foreign expression that did not match any of the expressions Han had of 'Ben' in mind.

Rolling his shoulders, Han took several steps back and rapped the back of his hand against the closed door. "Skywalker!"

An exasperated sigh and presumably a silent eye roll, followed by — "I said five more minutes, Han."

"Kid needs his shower time." Han supplied. "And he means ten minutes, not five."

Obi-Wan still appeared nonplussed. "Well, I'd rather —"

"You could leave a message for him with us if you'd like, Master Jedi." Leia interjected, cross-armed, smiling pleasantly. "But I am sure a Jedi Master like yourself has much more important things to do than waiting for a man to get out of the shower."

Obi-wan raised a brow of surprise before he smiled back just as pleasantly. "Importance is a matter of personal opinion."

"Well, of course, Master Jedi." Leia quipped, her tone becoming formal and her smile as well. "Like I said, I just do not wish for you to waste your time."

The man paused, stroked his beard, smiled an amused sort of smile that was somewhat unnerving. "Well," he said, "I can see now why you and Anakin are acquainted."

Leia visibly bristled at the statement and Han had to suppress a flinch.

"It's a compliment, I assure you." Obi-wan informed them with raised brows. He paused, before nodding to the closed door: "If you would so kindly tell Anakin that his presence is urgently requested in the morning by the council, I would greatly appreciate it."

"Of course, Master Jedi." Leia answered a bit too quickly.

Han raised an eyebrow at her before he walked back to the entrance doorway. He leaned against the doorframe and blinked down at Obi-Wan expectantly. "Anything else, old man?"

"Tell Anakin that he should check him com messages as well." The man responded, not faltering for even a second. "And do tell him not to spend too much time hanging with crowds as to forget his duties."

Before Han could even do a double take, the man had turned and departed. The only thing he left behind was a 'goodbye'.

* * *

Before daylight began to crack through the sky, Luke was already stretching out his arms and pacing around the dark apartment. Brushing away his unkempt curls, he shivered in the cold and slid on his father's dark Jedi robes. He paused with a yawn, reached over the cluttered kitchen counter, pulled a golden crisp out of a metal container, and popped the crisp into his mouth. Cold, but greasy and good. Leftovers from the delivery last night.

"Leaving already, Luke?"

Luke knew Leia was awake before she had even whispered the question. In the darkness, he could make out her silhouette on the bed.

"Yeah," he whispered back to her; and he tiptoed past where Han lay sleeping on the sofa to the foot of the bed. He bent down low so that he was level with her. "I want to do more research at the Jedi archives, before I…"

"Before you go under scrutiny by the Jedi Council." She finished for him, straight to the point as always.

"Yes…"

A sigh. "You aren't the best actor, Luke, but you're smart."

"Smart enough to deceive a room full of master Jedi?" He threw back a question with a smile.

"Yes, well, we can only hope."

There was a pause of silence.

"Luke, it seems as if we've stepped out from one war and right into another." Leia finally sighed, speaking the words all three of them had been thinking of since they'd arrived here.

Luke nodded in agreement, before he added reassuringly, "If we stop the fall of the Republic here though, Leia, there won't be any more of that. At least, for a while."

"Are you so sure about that, Luke?" Leia murmured. In the darkness, Luke could see that her eyes were downcast and contemplative. "Each small conflict just seems to lead to an even greater conflict — even more so during this era than ours. How can we be sure that we'll be able to cap it off once and for all?"

"It's not like you to talk like that, Leia." Luke noted quietly, before he returned a bit more sympathetically: "Besides, you know a lot more about those things than I do. "

"Knowledge is only one part of the equation, Luke." Leia quipped with a hint of coyness. She let out a sigh and then shifted in bed. "Han and I will be in the archives and the underground while you're gone."

"You're going to be looking into the clone army?" Luke tested for confirmation.

In the darkness, Leia nodded. "One of our biggest obstacles is probably the clone army. According to Bail, they served as the Emperor's hand in molding the Republic to the Empire."

Luke briefly thought of Kix, Rex, and Cody and tried to picture them moving in sync under the Emperor's orders. The image didn't form, however, as he could not see them turning their blasters on the Republic. He supposed, however, some loyalties could be bent out of shape during times of war. Afterall, he didn't quite know them well at all—

Or maybe there was simply a puzzle piece missing.

* * *

"Hello, Master."

Before he even stepped through the entrance of the temple, Luke heard such a greeting ring in his ears. Leaning with her back against the wall and with her arms folded plainly across her chest, Ahsoka smiled up at him. Even in this darkness her smile was especially bright.

"Hello, Ahsoka." He returned, keeping his surprise hidden behind a smile. He paused briefly, going through mental notes in his mind, before he tried. "Out past curfew?"

Ahsoka made a face. "Two years of being your padawan, and you still can't get over that bad joke, Master."

"That's because it's not a bad one." Luke quipped with forced gusto.

Ahsoka smiled impishly at the remark and rolled her eyes. She then detached herself from the wall and came to his side. There, she stood expectantly. And there, right beside her, Luke stood awkwardly.

"So, how'd your meet up at the archives go?" She finally quipped, folding her hands behind her back and blinking up at him.

"Oh," Luke cleared his throat and blinked back down at her — his towering height still disoriented him, "it went. Business." He added the last part with a shrug.

"Well, now that your business is finished," Ahsoka pressed, "and you're evidently well enough to go stalking the temples early in the morning, how about that training you promised me?" She tapped her left hip with an air of finality. Clasped there with a single strap were her twin lightsabers.

His heart skipped a beat.

It seemed like forever since he'd been able to practice his forms and swings. Technically, it was forever in the making.

Luke's hand began to itch, but he quelled it with a quick flick of his wrists. When excitement began to bubble in his chest instead, he quickly flung the feeling away from himself. In its place the ugly feeling began to rise up again but he too flung it away.

Now was not the time, he chastised himself.

"I'm sorry, Ahsoka," he frowned apologetically, earnestly, "but I actually have to meet with the Council this morning."

An expression that was a mixture of curiosity with a dash of concern flickered across her face for a moment. Had he misspoken?

"Is this about the mission you just came back from?"

"It probably is."

There was another skip of silence.

"Master, you seem a bit on edge." Ahsoka continued slowly, cautiously. "Are you still not feeling well from your injury?"

_Honestly, I'm a bit nervous to be speaking in front of the Council_ , Luke thought to himself as he began to rummage through his mind for a more appropriate response.

"But you always speak in front of the Council," Ahsoka noted with raised brows, "what makes this time any different?"

Shoot.

"I'm… nervous every time I speak to the Council." Luke answered quickly.

"Oh…" Ahsoka hummed with a nod as if in agreement. "Yeah, I guess it is pretty nerve-wracking when they're all looking at you. I remember the first time that I had to speak in front of the Council I couldn't stop stuttering even though Master Kenobi and Master Plo Koon were there."

Luke recognized the last name from his readings the previous night and quickly noted down the name's significant to Ahsoka in memory.

"You know," Ahsoka continued coyly, slowly, "perhaps a bit of sparring will help ease your nerves, Master."

Luke couldn't help but crack a smile at the cheekiness of her tone.

He turned over the possibilities in his mind. Just a little couldn't hurt, right? The temptation was a bit too much for him.

And so, he followed Ahsoka through twisting halls of the Temple to an open courtyard. Here, she turned to face him and unbuckled her weapons from her hip. He followed suit and observed her carefully which earned him an arched brow.

Then, she ignited her lightsabers; and the light from them enveloped her arms and face in a soft green glow.

Luke eyed the weapons in slight awe. One was shorter than the other, he noticed. That one — or so he assumed — was probably used for blocking while the other longer one was most likely used for offensive swipes. Before he could analyze the way she held her sabers or the stance she took, however, she blinked at him and quirked a smirk—

"My move first this time, Master, right?"

* * *

_anomaly 12_

_As soon as their lightsabers spark up against each other in a shower of light, she knows something is off. A puzzle piece does not fit. Perhaps, it is missing altogether. The swings, the clashes, the spitting fire from their blades rubbing against each other — everything. It's wrong. It feels less like the storm of power she is used to and more like an unfamiliar mixing of different seasons. Less like action and more like reaction._

_His style has changed, she realizes._

_And for a moment, as she holds her ground against the weight of his blade, as she feels the glow of his saber warm her face blue, the world twists beneath her feet. And then, it cracks—_

— _and she finds herself standing in front of a looming, dark figure._

_A mechanical sound, dull and cold, overtakes the chirping in the air. Slow and steady, slow and steady. Barely labored._

_Her blade is pressed against the thing's own. Twin white against a singular red. Sparks catch in the air — illuminate its face. A dark, metal, inhuman face._

— _25%_

* * *

Ahsoka stumbled backwards and fell back onto the cold, hard stone of the grounds. Her lightsabers clattered noisily beside her. Unlit and still burning hot.

Anakin was on her immediately. Legs bent, hand outstretched. A metal hand. A cold, mechanical hand, reaching out for her. Gripping tight, choking, strangling with the Force—

Ahsoka scrambled backwards and came to a stand. Anakin came to a stand as well. His hands were placating, his expression clouded with concern, confusion.

"Are… you alright, Ahsoka?"

She stared at him. Traced his features with her eyes. Took in the smallest twitches, the slightest breaths, the coupled blinks. And she felt her body relax. This was not the man in her vision. How could she even mistake him as _that_? But—

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you so hard."

"Well, it's not like you know how to push gently," she mused, bending down to pick up one of her lightsabers. She watched him as he bent down to pick up her smaller blade and extended a hand as he handed it back to her. "It was good to stretch my muscles though."

Anakin gave a half smile in response, and Ahsoka felt the last traces of unease trickle out of her.

_A vision?_ She thought to herself. _But…_

She turned over her lightsabers in hand and then watched as Anakin clipped his own weapon to the left of his waist.

_He usually has it on his right…_

"Say, Master," she drew curiously, fixing her weapons to her side as well, "are you trying out another new form of wielding? You know Master Illena will yell at you again if one of the younglings sees and starts to copy you."

Unexpectedly, Anakin's face flushed at the statement and for a brief moment he appeared sheepish and embarrassed. The expression brought unease back to her stomach but it was a different kind of unease from earlier. Before she could address the strange expression, the sound of footsteps echoed in the clearing and a familiar voice called out—

"There you are, Anakin. For a moment there, I thought I would have to chase you down through Coruscant again."

"Master Kenobi!" Ahsoka greeted in surprise as the man entered the open courtyard.

"Ahsoka," Obi-wan returned with a light nod and an equally light smile. He paused and gestured towards her Master with a coy smile. "Do you mind if I take him off of your hands for a while?"

"We were just sparring," Ahsoka supplied helpfully. "He's all yours."

Goodbyes and see-you-soons were quickly exchanged, although Anakin delivered them strangely. Ahsoka found herself exchanging a look with Obi-Wan at the strangeness.

As the two older Jedi turned to leave, Ahsoka found herself staring after Anakin. The way he held himself and the way he walked still seemed a bit off, she realized. And if she had stared for just a bit longer — which she forced herself not to do — she would have further realized that her master was the same height as the dark man from her vision.

* * *

No matter how hard he tried Luke could not calm himself. His nerves were on fire, and his heart was galloping inside of his chest. Even Ben's calming presence beside him did little to quell his nerves. Together they stood in front of the large stone doors leading to the council room in silence.

"It's just the usual meeting, Anakin," Ben said lightly from beside him. "There's no need to be on edge."

Luke searched his mind for quick and witty response, but the anxious excitement buzzing inside of his head clouded his thoughts, and all he could say was — "Right…"

The response earned him a subtle pause from the older Jedi that Luke almost missed.

"You're making quite a lot of friends these days." Obi-Wan hummed, his tone light and amused. "You should introduce me sometime. The woman was especially charming. I'm surprised I've never met her before as the Force is very strong with her."

Luke turned to Obi-Wan quickly and was met with a pressing and curious gaze. Before he could say anything, however, the doors in front of them creaked open. Obi-Wan turned away from him then and stepped over the threshold of the entrance. Luke quickly followed through behind him.

The council room was just as stunning as every other room in the Temple. Pale, spiral columns lined large and open windows along the walls, while a large golden circular design consumed the stone floorboards. Twelve chairs encircled this design — five of which were occupied.

Seated in these chairs were robe-wearing individuals who seemed to just radiate auras of wisdom and refinement and skill. It was rather intimidating. A Cerean. A Torguta. A Kel Dorian. Mace Windu. And —

"Yoda…" Luke whispered under his breath in awe.

His second teacher. The one who'd helped him better understand the force. The one who'd shown him first hand the dangers of the dark side. There, Yoda sat at the center of the arc of chairs. His eyes were bright, his stature and posture proud. Even from where he stood, Luke could feel wisdom and serenity radiating from the Jedi. So different from the frail hermit with somber eyes that Luke remembered.

Luke's heart ached at the sight.

_Stay focused._

Ben nodded at him and then walked off to one of the empty chairs. For a moment, Luke almost followed him but he quickly caught himself and instead remained awkwardly standing at the center of everything. Unsure of what do with his hands, he clasped them behind his back.

He once again swept his gaze across the individuals seated and allowed his gaze to linger a bit longer on Yoda and Ben. The former observed with twinkling eyes and an almost amused expression, while the later regarded him with a kind yet slightly restrained one.

Suddenly, abruptly, all of the unoccupied seats in the room became enveloped in flickering, blue holo-light. A second after, all of the empty seats became occupied by the blur, ghostly holo-images of robe-wearing Jedi.

Luke couldn't help but flinch slightly in response. He wasn't quite sure if the reaction came from anticipation or excitement.

Facing two Sith Lords was one thing. Facing a whole room full of Jedi Masters was a whole other story. A whole room full of Master Jedi. The very idea seemed mythical and fable-like. This was probably a once in a lifetime experience. And if circumstances were different, Luke would have whipped out a holopad and started throwing questions at them left and right. Maybe, he'd even clumsily shake some hands with a star-struck expression. But circumstances were not different, unfortunately.

Luke began to feel a bit lightheaded as his thoughts overwhelmed him which — paired with the pain that was beginning to build at the back of his head — led to a nauseous feeling overtaking him.

"Master Kenobi informed us that you two felt a disturbance while on planet." Mace Windu spoke first, his tone as hard and unrelenting as Luke remembered.

"Tell us your version of events, you will." Yoda elaborated, his voice as deep and rumbling as Luke remembered it to be.

Luke swallowed the lump in his throat, as he felt Yoda's gaze bore into his skin.

Just be confident and speak eloquently like a Jedi, he told himself.

"Well, Yoda," he began; and he paused for a moment as he noticed several of the Council members frown as he said the name. " _Master_ Yoda," he corrected himself, "it's as Master Kenobi has said. There was a disturbance in the Force during the battle. I didn't really have time to evaluate it—" Luke briefly wondered if 'evaluating' was even the correct word to use, but he continued nonetheless, "because I was knocked unconscious."

"Ah, yes, your injury." The Kel Dorian Jedi spoke with a tone of kindness. "And how are you feeling now?"

"Oh, I'm feeling much better now. Thank you, Master." Luke replied a little too quickly, a little too clumsily which he internally berated himself for.

"Is there anything else you would like to tell us?" Mace pressed, hands folded, expression seemingly unamused. "I have heard that you're behavior has been unusual these past few days."

"Oh, well, the injury I received was a head one," Luke replied quickly, averting his gaze, "so I was disoriented for a while."

"Still disoriented, you are."

Luke wasn't sure if Yoda had asked a question or merely stated an observation. The Jedi Master's gaze on him was strong and steadfast, however, so Luke felt compelled to say something.

"To tell us something more, you desire." Yoda pressed.

Luke felt his heart skip a beat. And then, he took a deep breath.

"I've been having visions."

— the lie that he'd gone over with Leia and Han multiple times the previous night slid easily off of his tongue.

Mace and Yoda exchanged a brief glance which surprised Luke. They seemed close despite their apparent contrasting personalities. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, was now frowning.

"I'm not sure about what specifically. Everything is cloudy — I'm not sure whether this is because of my concussion or something else." Luke continued the lie; absentmindedly, he rubbed the back of his neck which was now beginning to ache from the pain building in the back of his head. "But… I saw dark shadowy arms surrounding the Chancellor and the Senate. Arms that extended through the Republic."

In his mind's eye, he could already see Han mocking him for his mystic-sounding words. For a second, he almost wished he could actually hear the man because the silence that followed his statement was deafening.

"Skywalker," the Torguta master finally spoke, her expression revealing nothing, "you know that visions are almost never clear in their meaning. Additionally, with the dark side growing ever stronger, we must consider the possibility of your visions being tampered with."

Luke did not know these things, but he jotted the information down for future reference. "Of course…"

She gave him a curious look at his response, before she continued, "However, this _is_ concerning as there have already been signs of the dark side influencing the Senate. " She paused for a moment, before she finished — "We thank you for bringing this to our attention."

Luke nodded.

"You should get some much deserved rest, Skywalker." The Kel Dorian Jedi added.

Again, Luke nodded.

"Stay on Coruscant, you will," Yoda concluded with a harumph and a nod, "until you fully recover."

Once again, Luke nodded, unsure if this was the proper response. In fact, he still was uncertain of the power dynamics of the Jedi Order altogether. The council seemed to be an elevated group within the Order, but the individuals within the council seemed to be on even ground with all the other Jedi in the Order as Luke had observed earlier.

"I'll see you soon, Anakin." Obi-Wan pressed, breaking the long silence that had soaked up the atmosphere. His eyebrow was raised and lips were turned up into a tight smile.

Luke shook himself out of his thoughts and straightened himself, before he gave the Jedi in the room another quick look over. They were all staring intently at him as if appraising him or as if waiting for him to do something, say something. It was a bit unnerving despite the fact that he had been under such scrutiny before by high-ranking officials in the Rebellion.

"Right," Luke cleared his throat and took a step backwards, "I'll be going then."

His voice seemed awkwardly out of place in the silence that followed.

* * *

Luke let out a long and heavy sigh as the doors to the council room closed tightly behind him. He leaned back against the closed doors and allowed the coolness of the stone to seep into his back.

Well, that was one womprat down at least — or so Luke tried to reassure himself. The Jedi now were at least partially looking in the direction of the Chancellor, and they were also hopefully now no longer looking to deeply at his odd — rather, his father's — odd behavior. Hopefully.

That aside, Luke actually found the whole council meeting a bit nostalgic in a sense. In fact, it reminded him of his earlier days of serving in the Rebellion. Back in the days when he was a fresh pilot who would always debrief his superiors in a hurry and linger in the background as they'd discussed contracts and politics.

Funny.

He'd never thought of Jedi as politicians.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, if you're bored please feel free to check out my web novel that has been moved [ here ](https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/28808/chance-ignition-to-crimson-volition-six-chances)! I've just finished part 1!


	7. 007: Beneath the Surface, 25%

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Either crash a dinner party or make it as awkward as possible. There is no in-between.

* * *

"You're going to a senatorial party tomorrow night."

"... What?"

After only managing to spend half an hour in the Jedi archives following the meeting with the council, Luke was greeted with such a command when he returned to his father's apartment.

"You're going to be attending a nightly social in twenty four hours." Leia elaborated matter-of-factually as if her rearranged words made everything perfectly clear. She was skimming through a small holodisk as she spoke and it bathed her face a sky blue."I'm going to be your plus one."

Still uncertain, Luke turned to Han for an explanation. The man was lying across the sofa with his feet kicked up against the arm. In response to the question, he simply held up a circular, silver device — a communicator — and pressed one of the buttons on its surface. A loud beep rang out before a crackling voice filled the air—

"Hey, Master, I heard you just got back from your mission. Don't think I forgot what you promised me before you left. Com me back!"

It was Ahsoka's voice, Luke realized. Genuine, excited.

Beep.

"Ani" — the voice came out soft and familiar, but Luke couldn't quite place it — "I'm just checking in to see if you're alright. Please com me back when you're feeling better or..." A gentle and quiet sound broke the sentence in half. A flowery laugh. "... or when you're not being tied down by your duties or Obi-Wan, of course."

Beep.

"Anakin, I've noticed you've once again perfectly disobeyed the doctor's orders of bedrest. That aside, the council has requested your presence in the Temple. If you're feeling well enough, be sure to contact me. You do remember what happened last time when you made Windu wait, don't you?"

Beep.

"Knight Skywalker, I heard that you've just returned to Coruscant. Barris suggested that we come together for a sparring session. I agree that it would be a good opportunity for our padawans."

Beep.

"Sir, this is Jesse speaking — er — we were down here in the barracks wondering when you'd be stopping by again. The little guy's been cooped up here for a cycle or two now, and you know how he gets."

Beep.

"Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, you are courtly invited to the quarterly Senatorial Ball hosted at its usual location in the Senatorial Complexes. The ball will be held in one cycle from today, and the theme will be the Illurian moon. Please respond with your decision—"

Beep.

In the deep silence that followed, Luke could hear his own breathing, his own quiet sigh.

"Leia, I'm not sure about this."

Leia, unlike her brother, looked very sure of herself. Sweeping her dark, braided hair over her shoulders with one hand and placing the other on her hip, she glanced at him and said, "What's there not to be sure about? You've been on undercover missions that have been much more high pressure than this."

"During those missions, I was pretending to be someone who wasn't real, Leia." Luke frowned. He paused, gesturing to himself. "This time I'm someone real."

"What about the time you went undercover as the Duke of the Touyin Rings?" Leia responded. Despite the coyness in her tone, her lips were pursed and her expression was entirely serious. She was _General_ Organa now. "You were undercover as the Duke who was very much real, and you were very good at it. You would have fooled me."

"That was different." Luke murmured as he began to reminisce about that time despite himself. "I spent weeks preparing for it."

Leia approached him then. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she smiled like a politician and pressed something cold and square to his chest. He glanced down —- a holodisk.

"Well, Luke, you should start preparing then," she hummed. She squeezed his shoulder with finality and pressed passed him with a nod before exiting through the doorway and out into the city streets.

Luke stared after her for a moment, before turning the stare to the disk in his hand. In the corner in glowing letters, the disk read 'News Story 11490: Hero with No Fear on the First Battle of Christophsis." His heart skipped a short beat as the letters sank into his mind. Before he could fully process the title, however, a loud snigger drew away his attention.

"And what'll you be doing, Han?" Luke raised a disgruntled brow at the man. "There's no Falcon around for you to throw your wrench at."

Han smirked and folded his hands behind his head. "I'll tell you what I won't be doing. I won't be falling asleep at some stuffy, fancy rich fat cat meeting."

Despite a brief feeling of annoyment, Luke cracked a smile. "You won't be getting free food though."

"Yeah — well, kid," Han shrugged, "what can you do. Life is full of wins and loses."

Luke hummed in agreement, before he turned the holodisk over in his hands absentmindedly. Han stared at him for a moment, before he shifted almost uncomfortably in place. "Well, then, I'm going to give you some alone time then." Han drew slowly, unraveling himself from the sofa and dragging himself up to a stand. He gestured vaguely to the holodisk and then to Luke. "So you can watch your own technical reflection — you know, normal stuff."

Luke rolled his eyes and gave his friend a loose wave as the man exited the apartment. He stared after the man for a moment. Catching up to Leia, probably — or so Luke figured. They always seemed to be chasing each other back and forth when they weren't chasing after ideals. Ideals —

Luke sighed and turned the holodisk over in his hands again.

"Hero with no fear," he read the title aloud as he walked over to the couch and sank down into it. He smiled jokingly to himself. "I'm not sure if there's such a thing as that."

The holodisk flickered on.

* * *

The night of the senatorial party came swiftly. As the sun touched down on Coruscant, Luke and Leia arrived in front of the senatorial complexes.

The high rise, twisting buildings appeared to be lit ablaze with in an almost glorified halo of light at their arrival. It was of course just a trick of the light. The copper spires tangled around the rim of the buildings were simply reflecting the dimming rays of the setting sun. Even now, however, the copper glint reminded Luke of a red that made him feel somewhat nauseous.

"Well we can't stand here forever now, can we, Skywalker?" Leia pressed coyly from beside him.

Luke turned to her. She was wearing an ornate silvery dress with a matching headband that glittered in the fading light. The straps of the dress were wrapped methodically around her chest and neck in an almost suggestive fashion. A cut in the leg area of the dress allowed for extensive movement which Luke found very Leia-like. They had spent almost the entire previous day — and probably Anakin's entire monetary funds — shopping for the dress. Even so, Luke thought that the dress suited Leia perfectly. It was almost as if it had been perfectly tailored for her. Han, needless to say, was lost for words when he first saw her wearing it.

On the other hand, despite Leia's objections, Luke had opted for his father's usual Jedi robes for the party instead of the matching silver suit she had picked out. The robes were simple, after all. And he liked simple things.

"Course not." Luke replied, pausing to take her offered arm in his own. "Just need to put myself in the right mindset."

Leia chuckled lightly although there was understanding in her eyes.

And so, they passed through the entrance before them, up the spiraling staircases laying behind the doorway, past several guards who gave them odd looks. As they transversed the seemingly endless staircases, the comfortable silence between them began to become buzzed with muffled voices. By the time they reached the large and unsurprisingly copper-rimmed doorway on the fifteenth floor, the buzz had elevated into a cacophony.

The two exchanged looks as they approached the door. There were two guards stationed there, but unlike the other guards that were stationed around the periphery of the building, these guards were not clones. Their faces were pale, their eyes green and blue. Their blue armor glinted brightly under the overhanging lights. No battle abrasions in sight.

Luke pulled out his invitation from his robes and offered it to the guard closest to him. The guard accepted it, skimmed it over, and then glanced at Leia.

"I'm his plus one," Leia stated simply, pulling Luke's arm closer to her chest.

Luke had to resist raising an eyebrow at his sister. Instead, he nodded at the guard in silent confirmation. A strange look passed over the guard's face at that motion, but the guard said nothing. Instead he nodded at them both. The next moment saw to him pressing open the doors in unison with his stationed partner.

A large ballroom unfolded before them. Glittering, gray chandeliers hung high above the velvet-tiled floorboards and casted shattered rays of light across the pale walls and the even paler dining table that stretched all the way from one side of the room to the other. Men, women, and those in-between huddled in loose yet tight circles with eyes that flickered, hands that gestured, smiles that reassured. Long, thin droids carrying platters of food and wine weaved in an out of the sea smoothly despite the noise.

As the two stepped over the threshold of the entrance, the cacophonous noise became almost deafening. Deafening, yet clearer. Chitter and chatter, loud laughs and quiet whispers, chimes of glass cups clicking against one other, the clips of polished shoes against an even more polished floor — Leia was very familiar with these deafening yet clear sounds. Despite having only attended similar parties — on a much lesser scale — to this one twice before, Luke also found the entire thing strangely familiar as well.

Before he could address the strangeness, something else caught his attention. The loud chitter and chatter had begun to become overpowered by quiet whispers. Laughter died down to almost imperceivable hushing, shushing, muttering. Eyes moved away from glistening champagne glasses and towards—

"Everyone's looking at us." Luke whispered.

"I get that." Leia snapped back quietly.

— their intertwined arms.

Luke and Leia cleared their throats simultaneously and quickly untangled themselves from each other.

Luke quickly turned over numerous possibilities in his head.

Yoda had always emphasized the importance of being free from attachments and had even more strongly emphasized the dangers of having attachments; and he had emphasized all of these things during times in which beliefs of the old had almost faded into nothing. Therefore, it made sense for such beliefs to be even more stringent in the past — right? How something so glaringly obvious could have slipped past him — Luke didn't know. Perhaps, he didn't think that simply having a 'plus one' serious enough of an offense to the Jedi teachings.

"General Skywalker, I'm glad you could make it."

Luke and Leia turned at the call.

A familiar woman stood only a foot or so away from them. Her hair was tied up fashionably above her head with a silver bow interwoven between her dark braids. Her dress was a few shades lighter than Leia's own and blossomed out below her knees like a flower. Her eyes were warm.

Senator Padme Amidala of Naboo, former Queen of Naboo — Luke thought as he tried to recall the specifics of the fifty holodisks he'd gone through earlier that week

Leia took a step forward and extended a friendly hand which matched her even friendlier smile. Luke found it rather unnerving. "Hello, Senator Amidala of Naboo, correct?" Leia pressed, smile brightening as the senator accepted her gesture. "I apologize on my behalf and my friend's behalf for the misunderstanding that took place the other day. We were rather rude. "

"It's no trouble really." The senator smiled back at her. There was a pause, and she seemed to appraise Leia for a moment. "What was your name again?"

"Leia Solgana, senator." Leia introduced herself, ignoring Luke's hum, before she quickly continued, "I really admire the work that you've been doing for the Republic. Your dedication is truly admirable."

Luke raised an eyebrow in surprise. A not so subtle action that gained the attention of his sister. Leia, in turn, quirked a coy brow back at him. Oh — she was very good. Even so, there was a twinkle of genuine and almost starstruck admiration in her eyes. It was an odd twinkle that Luke had only seen once or twice before in them.

"Oh, thank you." The senator smiled back genially at her. "It's always good to hear when citizens are interested in a peaceful future for the whole of the galaxy. The more, the better." She studied Leia again for another moment, before she slowly turned her gaze towards Luke. "And how are you feeling, General Skywalker? Have you recovered from your injuries?"

Luke mustered a cocky smile and repeated the phrase he'd heard from the newsreel holodisk with gusto. "It takes a lot more than that to keep me down." However, his words once again came out with more gusto than he intended, and he couldn't help but flush slightly with embarrassment.

Much to his surprise, a laugh escaped from the senator's lips which she briefly covered up with a shy hand. Her laugh — despite its shortness — was rather contagious and Luke couldn't help but chuckle slightly in response. The shaking chuckle was shortly followed by a painful pound at the back of his head.

Leia glanced at him for a moment with furrowed brows, before she returned her attention to the senator."I would love to hear more about your work." A pause. "I know Naboo and Alderaan are working on a joint piece of legislation pushing for an increase in the relief effort in the Relikan sector. What provisions does it entail exactly?"

Luke's head perked up at the familiar-sounding word. Alderaan. Despite all of the weight and history and pain the word carried, it was said with a tone of nonchalance. Steady voice and even gaze. His sister was truly amazing.

The senator's expression seemed to brighten tenfold at Leia's statement, and she turned slightly away from them and inclined her head backwards. "I'd love to discuss it — after all, in the long run it'll be affecting every star system in the Republic. It's good to be informed." Her eyes searched the crowd behind her for a moment before they flickered back to Leia. "What planet are you from?"

"Alderaan." Leia answered without skipping a beat.

"Oh, that's perfect!" The senator chimed, before her eyes locked onto a figure weaving through the crowd behind her. "I think it'd be best if we had this discussion with the person who represents your planet — Bail!"

A pause.

Two heads turned.

And then there was a flare in the Force.

A dark-haired man emerged from the crowd of silver and gray with a warm and genuine smile adorned on his face. Like the others in the hall, he was wrapped in silver-dyed clothing. His hair was also peppered lightly with silver as were the deep purple cufflinks on his wrists. The silver in his clothing, however, was a very pale shade — a shade that almost reminded Luke of the dress Leia wore when they'd first met aboard the Imperial ship all those years ago.

Luke had to stop himself from reaching for his sister with a comforting and steadying hand. She seemed almost like she was carved from stone now — perfectly still and rigid. The slightest touch, the greatest fracture.

"Bail, I'd like you to meet General Skywalker's friend whom I've told you about." The senator said, placing a hand on the addressed man's back as he came to stand beside her. She paused, gesturing to Leia. "This is Leia Solgana — she is a citizen of Alderaan and is very interested in our push for increased relief efforts in the Relikan sector."

With an expression of mild surprise, Bail Organa offered Leia a hand paired with the type of smile one would give an acquaintance — pleasant yet restrained. "Oh, I see," he said, "it's great to hear when I have support from constituents."

Leia stared at the extended hand like it was an oddity, like it was something that did not belong in this world, like she was almost afraid of it. Her gaze trailed from the hand to the smile that was still in place. She took in a breath, beamed, and accepted the gesture gently.

"I apologize." She cleared her throat. "I'm a bit starstruck."

"Starstruck by a senator?" Bail Organa mused, brows raised.

"Of course." Leia huffed. "There are more ways to win a war than by waving around a weapon, and those ways deserve just as much admiration — or perhaps even more — don't you think?"

The senator and Bail exchanged looks of surprise, before their gazes drifted towards Luke — rather, they drifted towards the figure of Jedi General Anakin Skywalker. Anakin Skywalker who was an individual who did such weapon-waving. Anakin Skywalker who was gazing at Leia Solgana with a soft sort of fondness that was rare to see on a Jedi General's face.

Noticing their gazes, Luke swallowed and then offered a half-hearted smile. "Words do work wonders sometimes."

A brief round of laughter followed the response, although some gazes lingered with curiosity and uncertainty. Before any curiosity and uncertainty could be addressed, however, Leia drew the two senators into a long-winded conversation filled with political jargon and seemingly simple words that appeared to have deeper meanings behind them. Feeling uncomfortable amid the chatter, Luke quickly excused himself and began to weave through the crowds lost in thought—

The clones had helped the Republic keep its footing in the Separatist War. A war which followed the Invasion of Naboo. A war which started with the First Battle of Geonosis which his father apparently took part in. A war against the Separatists backed by Count Dooku, a former Jedi — a rather wealthy one — who had fallen for reasons Luke still did not know. Jedi against Sith. Clone against droid. Invisible strings wrapped around hearts, minds, limbs. But in the end, after all of the convolution and chaos it'd be Clones pitted against Jedi. These facts, Luke knew for certain.

"Ani!"

The Clones, Luke thought. Birthed from the watery, stormy planet of Kamino. Birthed for the sole purpose of war — an idea that caused Luke's stomach to churn uncomfortably. Why the Jedi would support a thing like this — well, that was a whole other thing to think about. And then there were the Kaminoans.

"Ani!"

The Kaminoans were known throughout the galaxy for their advancements in cloning technology. At the pinnacle of the war, the Jedi had asked the Kaminoans for a clone army which, in Luke's opinion, again didn't sound very Jedi-like at all. But then again times were different, and the holodisks the three of them had gone over for the past few days could have been subjective.

"Ani!"

The Kaminoans…

Luke combed through the crowd in search for the pale, long-necked individuals he'd seen featured in all of the Kaminoan-related holodisks he'd read over the previous day. If he could just find the senator of the planet, then—

"Ani, you-sa came!"

Luke wasn't quite sure in what order the proceeding events followed. There was _that_ deeply accented and nonsensical shout. There was the dull thud of limb cracking against limb. And there was also a screech of alarm paired with a metal clatter. A crash, shattering tinkle, a splash.

Yes, Luke wasn't sure at all in what order such events occured. What he did know was that he was now lying on his back on the cold marble floor with shards of glass snowed into his hair and with red wine spreading through the fabric of his robes. He also knew that a tall and thin silver service droid was now hovering over him with an empty serving platter in hand. Most apparent to him was the fact that someone was now spread across his chest.

"Ah!" Came the delayed cry of alarm from the person draped on top of him. "Me-sa so sorry, Ani!"

The weight off of his chest lifted, and a webbed hand was thrown into his view. Still somewhat dazed, Luke dusted the layer of glass out of his hair and reached for the offered hand. As he was pulled up to a stand (and almost pulled down to the floor again by the jerkiness of the motion), he came face-to-face with a wide smile and bulging eyes.

A Gungan wrapped in silver robes stood before him. The Gungan was very tall and very thin. And there was an odd, almost eccentric aura about him in the Force. He seemed very different from the Gungans Luke had encountered on his numerous missions in the past. After all, they had always seemed like a serious people. Always reserved, regretful, quiet. Then again, there wasn't any room for un-seriousness with the Empire hovering over everything, right? Nonetheless, there was a friendly and familiar glint in Gungan's eyes.

He probably knows my father, Luke deduced. He quickly cleared his throat and tried to get the rest of the glass out of his hair as he pressed: "Er, it's fine — are you alright?"

"Yeah!" The Gungan exclaimed, before he suddenly lunged forward and wrapped Luke in a tight hug. "Me-sa heard you got back early from your fight! We-sa so glad you-sa bombad!"

Utterly confused and dazed, Luke stood frozen in the Gungan's hold. Sure, he'd been embraced before and he'd given his fair share of embraces too. But all of those warm gestures had been complementary and two-sided. Even with Chewie. And this affectionate, one-sided embrace given by someone Luke didn't even know — well, to say the least, Luke felt awkward. More awkward than usual. "It's good to see you too," Luke tried, patting the Gungan once on the back. _Whoever you are._

Finally, the Gungan pulled away from him. "Padme told me you gotten injured in battle!"

Luke nodded, gratefully accepting a towel that a nearby service droid offered him. "I got a slight concussion because a detonator went off near me," he explained, patting down his clothes with the towel. "I'm alright now, but I am having some memory problems so I'm sorry if I'm a bit slo — "

"Memory problems!" The Gungan gasped with an eruption of dramatic hand gestures. Up, down, around. "That's horrible, Ani — you-sa remember Jar Jar, yes?"

Pushing his father's apparent affectionate nickname out of mind, Luke took in the nuances and gestures that came paired with the exclaimed question and quickly deduced that the Gungan's name was in fact Jar Jar. "Of course I remember you, Jar Jar," Luke reassured him with a lie. "There's no way I'd be able to forget you." Well, that part was true.

"Oh, me-sa so glad." Jar Jar sighed in relief, throwing his hands up in the air and nearly knocking down another service droid. Luke almost winced in response and flashed the droid an apologetic look despite himself. "I mean, we-sa been through so much together. From the very beginning!"

Luke's heart skipped a beat.

_From the very beginning?_

"With Master Qui-Gon and Kenobi and Padme and your mom and—"

Luke paused, eyes wide, head pounding. The towel nearly slipped from his hand. "Wait — did you say 'mom'?"

"Yes, your mom was such a great cook, Ani," Jar Jar continued, "Me-sa remember when we-sa first came to Tatooine and your ma made a whole big meal!"

"Wait, wait," Luke murmured quietly to himself. "I thought all Jedi were taken into the Jedi Order at a really young age — too young to even know their parents. That's what I got from Ahsoka, and that's what most of the holodisks seemed to say. But my fath— I knew my mom. You knew my mom."

"Hm?" Jar Jar's expression twisted into one of confusion. "You-sa around ninee or tenskee — so small — when you joined." Worry and alarm stretched across his face. "Wait you-sa don't remem—"

Luke placed a hand on Jar Jar's shoulder and signalled for him to lower his voice. "It's alright, Jar Jar. It's not a big deal. It's coming back to me now."

Jar Jar craned his neck low. "You-sa sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure, Jar Jar," Luke reassured him. He let out an internal sigh of relief as the Gungan seemed to relax at his words. He seemed to be quite gullible, this one — very kind, but very gullible. And for a moment, Luke paused and considered. "Jar Jar, could we keep this conversation just between us? I don't want to worry anyone—"

"Not even Padme?!" Jar Jar exclaimed. He took a step backwards and nearly knocked into a Torguta standing behind him. Thankfully, Luke was able to swiftly grab at him and pull him forward before disaster followed.

 _This guy is a safety hazard_ , Luke thought incredulously to himself. Nonetheless, he also thought it was a bit odd that Jar Jar had mentioned the senator but he nodded anyways. "Not even Padme." He paused again and glanced around the dining hall. "I'd really appreciate it if you'd help me a bit with understanding everything — help me get a hand on things. I'd ask the others, but I don't want to worry them too much."

Jar Jar's face lit up almost immediately. "Of course! Me-sa help you! You-sa rely on me, Ani!"

Luke felt a bit bad for using the Gungan's naivety to gain information, but learning all he could about the current state of affairs was important. Besides, no harm could come of it, right?

"I was actually wondering about the clones and the Kaminoans." Luke drew slowly, accepting two glasses of wine from a passing service droid. He offered a glass to the Gungan and couldn't help but let out a brief boyish chuckle as the latter spent half a minute fumbling with the thing. He quickly suppressed the sound as he registered the expression of surprise on Jar Jar's face.

"Isa good to see you laugh, Ani! You-sa always so serious." Jar Jar responded without skipping a beat. "Da Kaminoans and da clones — dey-sa bombad people from what me-sa knows. Always helpen the Republic."

Luke considered this for a moment, before he pressed — "How do the Kaminoans and clones view the Chancellor? Are they on good terms politically?"

"The Chancellor?" Jar Jar blinked in confusion, before he continued with earnesty. "He-sa good man. Everyone knows that. We-sa all very close in the senate."

Luke's stomach churned uncomfortably, and he felt a chill crawl up his spine. The Emperor's hands truly were everywhere. The Jedi, the senate. The list of reliable, uninfluenced allies was shrinking. The very thought of the Emperor smiling genially at the Jedi and at the members of the senate left a sour taste on Luke's tongue.

"You-sa don't look so good, Ani." Jar Jar noted. "You-sa want to lie down?" Before Luke could respond, however, Jar Jar's head perked up and his expression brightened. "Speaking of da Chancellor and Senator Burtoni — they-sa right there!"

Luke turned.

And standing right beneath one of the many large crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling was the Emperor and a Kaminoan whom Luke assumed was the senator for the respective planet. They were both wrapped in silver-laced clothing, although the Emperor had dabbles of copper sparkling throughout his robes. The crystalline light shining down from the chandeliers bathed them in an almost halo-like glow that seemed to just be intensified by the copper and silver woven into their clothes. Their smiles were matched — kind and courteous.

Despite himself, Luke found himself taking a cautious step backwards. A soft rubber tap resounded at the action. A sound that should have been lost amongst the noise of the hall. But as soon as the muffled sound echoed from the floor, the Emperor's head perked up. His head turned. Their eyes met. A smile was offered.

"I should go." Luke muttered quickly. "Thanks for everything, Jar Jar."

Not waiting to hear a response, Luke quickly made his way through the crowd and found his way to Leia. She was still conversing animatedly with both of the senators he'd left her with, and she gave him a disgruntled frown as he pressed his hand against her arm.

"The Emperor is here." He whispered to her, ignoring the strange looks the other two senators gave him.

Leia's eyes widened for a fraction a second, before her expression smoothed over. "I'll be fine. He doesn't know me. He doesn't want anything to do with me." As she saw his face twist with worry, she clarified. "Not at this point in time, anyways. But you on the other hand — you should probably avoid him as much as possible."

"Is something wrong, General Skywalker?" Padme pressed.

"It's nothing." Leia replied, turning away from him. "Anakin was just leaving." She turned back to him, eyes sharp. "Right?"

* * *

Leia was very hard to say no to. Even so, Luke lingered. He lingered on the balcony that extended out from the ballroom. Velvet curtains hung from the entrance of the balcony concealing one side from the other. If it were not for the noise and the blimps in the Force (his sister's signature in particular) emanating from behind the curtain, Luke would have thought he was in an entirely different place altogether.

The moon was hanging low in the sky now. Its silver light seemed to be almost overpowered by the golden glow from the moving city streets below. Still, Luke found that the air out here was still and cool and free from the heavy web of complications he'd been entangled in earlier. Vaguely, he was reminded of his times in the cold desert nights of Tatooine when he'd just lay out in the open sand staring at the open sky after a hard days work. Torn between mental and physical exhaustion, he'd finally be able to be lost completely in his thoughts, his aspirations in the dark.

"Your friend has quite the way with words."

Luke started and turned.

Senator Padme Amidala stood there before him bathed in white and silver. She almost seemed to glow in the light.

 _Like an ange_ l—

A sharp pain screamed through the back of his head. An almost unbearable pain that made his eyes begin to water.

"That's Leia for you." Luke replied, clearing his throat and rubbing the pain out of the back of his neck. "I don't know anyone who uses words as masterfully as she does."

A surprisingly sly look fluttered across the senator's face and she took a shy step forward. "Oh, do I not speak as masterfully, Ani?"

Luke took a large step backwards as the fond nickname rang in his ears. That paired with the almost sultry tone in the senator's usually fair and even voice caused a heat to crawl up his neck to his face. "I—" The senator seemed to register the red blooming on his cheeks and reached for them tenderly. Her touch was light and soft and cool.

"Are you alright, Ani?"

A warmth spilled into the Force at her touch. It was a familiar kind of warmth. The type of warmth he'd feel radiating from Han and Leia whenever they stole glances at each other. The type of warmth he'd felt when he'd freed his father from his dark mask and was able truly to look at his father's eyes for the first time. A warmth which he could only describe as love.

Luke grasped Padme's hand and pulled back from her with widened eyes.

How could he not see it before?

Even with the shadows from the pillars stretching strangely across Padme's face Luke could still see Leia's brown eyes in Padme's own.

"Mom…" Luke whispered breathlessly.

Padme's brows furrowed, and she pulled back slightly. "... what?"

"I—" Luke dropped her hand. "I — uhm—" He tried to quickly think of a reasonable response as he felt his face begin to flush deeply — rather, even more deeply. "I was just thinking about my mom. I was speaking to Jar Jar, and he brought her up, so... "

Padme's expression softened, and her eyes became sad — almost wistful. "Oh, Ani…" She reached out to cup his face in her hand, but he pulled back again. Instead, he caught her extended hand and brought it back down to her waist.

"I-I should probably be going." He said, clearing his throat and avoiding her gaze. "My friend, Leia, she — I should check on her."

"Oh." Padme blinked, somewhat startled. "Of course." She lowered gaze for a moment as if in thought and met his gaze again the moment after. "Are you sure you're alright?"

The concern in her voice was almost painful. And so, he offered her a reassuring smile and gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze despite the feeling of unease that gripped his chest. And just for her, he said with all of the confidence and pride he could muster —"I'm always alright. I'm a Jedi after all."

* * *

Once he entered back into the dining hall, Luke quickly scanned the room and came to realize that the Emperor was no longer in the area. A weight lifted off of his chest at this realization, and he let out a sigh of relief. Nonetheless, he continued to scan the crowd with both his eyes and the Force. A second later, he found his sister's dark head bobbing up and down in the midst of the chatting politicians. Bail was walking along side her with a glass of wine in hand. Both were smiling, laughing even. He hadn't seen Leia laugh like that — well, ever.

Luke turned back to the velvet curtain behind him.

A Jedi and a senator in a relationship, he mused. A secret relationship probably. And from what Luke had learned and had seen so far, the Jedi Order most likely wouldn't welcome something like this with open arms. After all, Yoda had always smacked him on the head with his cane whenever he had wistfully spoken about his squadron mates or Leia and Han. Plus, with all of the politics and war…

Luke couldn't help but run his hand through his hair in exasperation. He was getting used to the cold touch of his metal hand now, and he did not flinch as he trailed it down his neck.

Really — what kind of life was his father (his parents) living?

* * *

Coruscanti nights were never quiet. They were never quiet, and they were never dark. Speeders and other smaller vehicles would sputter along busy airways which themselves were illuminated with noisy beams of light. Beams of light that ghosted shadows along the skyscrapers. Skyscrapers that gave off the fluorescent glows of nightly advertisements.

Fives enjoyed Coruscanti nights the most — especially after long weeks away in the trenches.

On this particular night, he strolled down the open streets alongside two of his fellow squadron members — Tup and Jessie. Another trooper nicknamed something along the lines of "Hardcase" had tagged along with them from the bar and was now swaggering loudly back and forth with an alcohol container in hand.

Fives was sober enough to recognize Hardcase's behavior as several notches above hilarious but was not sober enough to control the volume of his laughter at the sound of it. Jesse was almost as gone as Hardcase was and began to even encourage the latter loudly. Meanwhile, Tup walked beside them and only offered a slight chuckle here and there. Despite their identical genetics, Tup seemed always to hold his alcohol much better than all of the other clones. Or maybe it only appeared that way because Tup barely had more than a sip when they hit the bar. Either way, with Coruscanti night air crisp and clear around them and with laughter thickening the air, Fives found himself almost able to take his mind off of the war escalating beyond the bubble of Coruscant.

"Guys, its the General."

All of them turned at the exclamation.

Sitting on a bench that lined the walkway and oversaw the senatorial complexes was indeed their general. Anakin Skywalker. He sat there still and quiet with only the soft glow from a nearby store sign illuminating his figure. It was a bit eerie. He seemed almost carved from stone. And not in the typical 'Jedi-like way' either — their General had always seemed to stray from the typical, textbook definition of 'Jedi', in fact. That quality was actually something that the 501st admired him for. The non-conformity. The fearlessness—

But Hardcase seemed too drunk to notice the strangeness in the air, and he bounded right up to the man and gave a loud shout — "Ey, General, heard you bulldozed Fives like he was a clanker the other day!"

Skywalker seemed to start at the shout and turned to them slowly as if he were just waking up from a dream. He continued to observe them as they approached. And it was only when they were all in front of him that did something akin to recognition flicker across his face. The strange expression was then replaced with a friendly smile.

"I'm sorry about earlier, _Fives_." Anakin nodded at him. His eyes seemed to linger on the numerical tattoo that was imprinted on his forehead. "I was in a hurry. Should have looked where I was going."

"It's no problem, sir." Fives waved him off with a shake of his head. He added a bit jokingly, "So I guess the Seppies got you good, huh?"

"Apparently they did, Fives." Anakin replied with a wry sort of smile that was paired with an abrupt and boyish laugh.

Fives had been expecting a sort of good-natured cocky response, so the acknowledgement and laughter threw him off slightly. "I meant that with all due respect, sir," he added for better measure.

Anakin looked somewhat perplexed at the response but didn't say anything more. There was a pause of unusually awkward silence, before he gestured towards the open seat beside him. "There's room if you want to sit. I was just about to leave." He came to a slow stand then and studied them for a moment. A strange moment. A moment in which the General looked them over like how he'd often look over terrain or schematics in preparation for a large battle. In fact, he was scrutinizing them so closely that Fives wondered if he could see the drunkenness on their faces.

"Er, is there anything else we can help you with, sir?" Tup pressed nervously.

Anakin looked away suddenly. They followed his gaze and found themselves staring after two silhouettes exiting the senatorial complexes. As Fives's eyes adjusted to the distance, he realized that it was a familiar Senator Bail Organa who was walking down the building's steps arm-in-arm with an unfamiliar, yet familiar young woman.

"What are you guys fighting for in this war?"

The question cut through the night air like a knife.

It wasn't as if Fives had never been asked the question for. It was just that it had never been asked so earnestly in such a tone and by their General of all people. Such questions were left back at training bases for troopers who had not yet realized that war was not so much about fighting for things as it was about losing things.

"Uh, sir, are you drunk?" Hardcase returned, his words slurring together drunkenly. Tup and Jesse winced in response, but Anakin's lip twitched upwards. And then, just like that, his entire demeanor seemed to smooth over somewhat.

"There was a little bit of wine at the senatorial party I was just at." He replied, expression even and revealing nothing. "But I _am_ curious."

Was this a trick question? An evaluation? That seemed very unlike the General.

"Well, we're fighting for the Republic, sir." Tup said quickly, mechanically, repeating the mantra that had been nailed into him since birth. "It's what we were made for."

Something flickered in Anakin's eyes at the statement. Something distant and foreign. Something unnerving. Was that — Fives found it hard to believe — _distrust_? Even through the haze of alcohol, Fives felt his heart begin to thunder.

A laugh broke through the atmosphere suddenly; and before Fives knew it he was being pulled into an arm hug. Hardcase scoffed loudly beside him as he said, "Oh, come on, you know in the end all we're fighting for is the man right beside us, right, General?"

Anakin had started at the sudden sound and his expression cracked. Something akin to relief. Despite the crack in expression fact, however, _that_ still lingered.

* * *

_anomaly 13_

_In the end, he realizes that the line has been rubbed away. With a callous yet calculating hand, its existence has been extinguished._

_"Put down your weapons!"_

_What is right and what is wrong._

_"Just come with us, and we'll take you back to the temple."_

_Who to put trust in and who to be wary of._

_"I was framed because I know the truth. The truth of a sinister plot. A plot against the Jedi."_

_What is worth fighting for, what is worth dying for, what is worth living for._

_"It'll be okay, Fives, we'll sort this out."_

_Futility and fruitfulness._

_The line dividing them is gone._

_"The evidence. It's all right here. In my head! In all of us!"_

_In the end, a person with his own face is the one to pull the trigger. In the end, a person with his own face is the one to cradle him in his death. In the end, as cold blackness begins to blot out his vision, he realizes that perhaps such a line has never existed in the first place._

* * *

"Fives!"

Fives blinked away the specs of white that filled his vision.

"You alright, Fives?"

Faces that were identical to his own peered down at him from behind a blinding white light that made said faces look startling different, foreign.

Fives shot up to a sitting position startling those ringed around him. For a moment, as his mind slipped back and forth between different realities, he considered grabbing the nearest object, chucking it, and then making his escape. After all, it was a person who had his own face — a person who had a face like those who stood above him — who had pulled the trigger. His life snuffed out just like that. In the blink of an eye. Futility.

No—

Reality slowly folded back in on him.

He was on the floor. Beside him was his bed. Just beyond his bed was the door leading out of his dorm and into the hall of the barracks.

He was safe.

He was the closest to home he'd been in a while.

Most important of all, he was with his brothers.

The heat that had been ensnaring his body dissipated leaving only cold sweat and an odd feeling of fatigue and restlessness.

"Nightmare?" Suggested one. Jesse.

"Nah," laughed another, "probably a bad hangover from last night, right? Man, did we smash it yesterday. Barely remember what happened." Pausing in his chortle, Hardcase offered his hand.

Fives accepted the gesture and tried a smile. "Well, _I_ remember someone passin' out right in front of the General."

Hardcase laughed hard as did several of the others. The laughter soon ebbed away, however, as it became apparent that the handful who were not laughing also happened to be the handful that had been present at the time of the alleged incident. Hardcase swallowed. "You're joking."

"No joke, Hardcase." Jesse grinned with amusement. "General Skywalker almost carried ya back here."

At the mention of the General, the atmosphere dampened somewhat. Rumors travelled fast within the 501st. Whether it be a simple slip up like forgetting daily chores or a serious offense like back mouthing a commanding officer, by the end of the day the entire battalion would be in the know of who did what and what happened to whom. Needless to say, word of Skywalker's injury in the field travelled fast. News of his possible condition resulting from such an injury travelled faster. Some swore vengeance while others voiced their concerns. Most, however, voiced their disbelief and denial. After all, General Skywalker was one of them. And a Jedi no less. There was no way he'd be stopped — he'd be defeated and be so changed — by a mere injury.

But Fives had seen it. That expression.

Heat rose from his stomach again and crept along his spine as he recalled the foreign expression of distrust in his General's eyes.

He wondered if the others who were present had seen it too.

"Well, we're gonna head to the mess hall for breakfast." Jesse thumbed the door. "Feel free to join us. Or you could, y'know." He grinned humorously. "Enjoy the floor some more. Looked like you were enjoyin' yourself down there."

And with that, the group departed.

The group minus one.

Tup remained. His furrowed brows and set frown indicated that he was clearly still concerned. Compared to some of the others, he wore his emotions more readily on his sleeve. That paired with his general sheepishness made him seem rather unfit for war. But Fives knew better than that. He knew Tup was as capable in the heat of battle as much as any of them. But Fives didn't know how he knew that. After all, they had only become acquainted a few weeks or so ago. Certainly, being in the heart of a life or death situation quickened the formation of bonds but—

"You sure your alright, Fives? Don't want to check in with Kix or something just to be sure?" Tup pressed.

With deliberateness Fives ran his fingers along his scalp just above his temple as he studied the other man. "What about you? Are you feelin' okay? Dizzy? Memory gaps?"

Tup's frown of concern turned into one of confusion. "No, I'm fine. Why?"

"... dunno."

And that was the truth.

— 30%

* * *

In a dark and dim building nestled in the backwater alleyways of Coruscant, a man and a woman stood at a stalemate. In between them was a wooden table piled high with hundreds of Republic credits.

Fingers tapped against the table's edge. Eyes glinted in anticipation.

Finally, a slew of cards was thrown down and the victor was made clear.

"I win. And a deal's a deal." The victor grinned, leaning forward and cocking a brow. "So, Miss No Name, ever heard of Kamino?"

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I've got your attention, [ part 1 ](https://sixchances.com/part-1-the-synchronized-six/) of my web serial novel has finished and I'd appreciate it if you'd give it a gander! Also available [ here ](https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/28808/the-synchronized-six-six-chances) on royal road.  
> Quick blurb:  
> "What would you do if your life, memories, and feelings were suddenly tied to another person?   
> Six people. One life.   
> A spoiled prince haunted by a ghost. A big city swindler with a knack for illusions. A cold soldier with a sharp eye. A pirate with a few screws loose. A chieftain’s bookish daughter with carefully bandaged hands. A peacekeeping agent with an eye for vengeance.   
> After simultaneously knocking on death’s door, these six find themselves psychically connected across national lines. Tensions rise between them and between their respective countries, which are recovering from a long war over the mysterious vitae—an energy source harvested and utilized in weapons and engines called conductors. Loyalty, memory, and sense of self blur as conspiracies encroach.   
> Assassination attempts, a border conflict, a missing peacekeeping agent, a bar shootout, a tale of a bloodthirsty beast, and the terrorist organization ELPIS.   
> —Everything is connected. Nothing is coincidental. The spark has ignited…!"


	8. 008: Doubt & Trust (I), 32%

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not about the lice! It's about secrets and conspiracy!

* * *

Being avoided was a rather unpleasant feeling. Rather, realizing one was being avoided was what was unpleasant. There was comfort, however, in finding that one was not alone in experiencing the avoidance.

"No, Master Kenobi." Ahsoka sighed into her com as she continued in her stroll down the corridor. "He's not responding to any of my calls either." She paused in thought and in body, before suggesting wryly, "You don't think he's already snuck his way offworld on one of his secret missions, do you?"

"That would be like him." There was a complexity in the man's tone that Ahsoka could not dissect. Anakin probably could. It was something that had always tickled something inside of her — how well the two Jedi seemed to be able to read each other. It was as if they had some sort of unspoken language between them that not even the most studious Jedi could break. A quirk of a brow, a nod of the head were just that to her but to them it was an entire conversation.

"Master," Ahsoka tried carefully, "did something happen between the two of you recently?"

"It is more the lack of something occuring than anything else," came the answer that answered nothing.

"Master?" Ahsoka pressed. She unfairly sent a misdirected and indignant look to the door in front of her. It did not budge. And neither did Obi-Wan.

Choosing not to elaborate, he simply bid her a thank you and farewell.

Ahsoka swallowed a sigh of frustration. Secrets again. It was always secrets with the Jedi Masters. She couldn't wait until she became a master herself so she could look pleasantly down at padawans and say with an air of mystery and wisdom — "You will know one day."

Although now she herself had a secret of her own, she thought to herself as her memory swept her back to the cold vision of red and black that had clouded her mind on that day. After spending a bit of time meditating on the vision that day, she had decided to bring the matter up with her master. But of course it was just her luck that he seemed to have disappeared off the face of Coruscant.

Sliding her keycard into the register in front of her, she collected her thoughts and tangled emotions and expelled them into the Force. The door in front of her slid open and a rather comforting sight unfolded before her.

A dining hall occupied by familiar individuals. Individuals that shared the same face and the same end goal but nothing else. Scanning her eyes over them, she could pick out each and every single one of them and turned over their name in her mind. But there was a face that was not present there. The face of someone who she was searching for.

"Commander Tano," came the surprised address that was paired with a salute.

"Hi, Rex." She smiled genially at the man who had noticed and greeted her first.

"What brings you to the barracks?"

After he met her where she stood, they began to walk forward along the side of the hall. Some men that passed by them offered respectful greetings while others merely smiled and waved. Rex, of course, gave the latter category rather reproachful looks.

"I thought I'd drop by to see how you were all doing. Make sure the men were all well-behaved, but I see that you're taking care of that." Ahsoka replied with an amused grin. "And…"

"And you were looking for the General." Rex finished with a small and knowing smile.

She reflected the smile back and quirked a brow. "I take it he hasn't graced the barracks with his presence yet."

"Affirmative." Rex replied in an almost light tone, before his expression became hard again. "I heard some of the men encountered him a couple nights ago. Said he was attending a Senatorial Ball. Wish they would have told him about the little guy - he's been holed up here ever since we've gotten back on Coruscant."

Ahsoka's brows shot up. "You mean he hasn't picked up Artoo yet?"

As if on cue, a streak of blue and silver emerged from around the corner and collided with her leg. A sad whistle resounded, and Ahsoka could not help but frown sympathetically.

"Aw, hey, Artoo." She sighed as she sank to a squat and pressed her palm against the droid's head. "Is Anakin avoiding you too?"

"How _is_ the General?" Rex cleared his throat in an attempt to sound professional yet casual. "Is he still feeling under the weather?"

The chitter, chatter around them seemed to quiet.

"He won't admit it," Ahsoka murmured, lowering her gaze as she ran her fingertips comfortingly along Artoo's cool surface, "but I think so. "

Anakin — it was as if a distance between them had formed. A distance that could not be crossed. Sometimes she had been tempted to try and cross the distance by straining on the training bond that was between them but something always stopped her. Even now, when the distance seemed to make itself larger.

Ahsoka rose to her feet, hand still resting atop Artoo's head. "To think he'd even leave Artoo like this though. It's not like him…"

"Er," Rex cleared his throat, folding his hands stiffly behind his back and looking clear ahead, "I know this may be above my paygrade but is General Skywalker involved in some sort of Jedi mission? Is that why he's been absent and off?"

Ahsoka shook her head but then stopped short. "At least, not that I know of…" She crossed her arms and sighed. "From what I understand, the Jedi Council has ordered him to remain on Coruscant in order to recover…"

"I see." Rex said nothing more, choosing to simply wait for his Commander to gather her thoughts.

And that she did. Ahsoka quickly collected herself and allowed an expression of calm to overtake her knitted brows. "Anyways, I'll see if Senator Amidala or Obi-wan can come by and take Artoo in since they're usually the ones who do when he's offworld."

"I'll tell the men that." The Captain nodded in turn, mirroring her professional air.

Ahsoka nodded back to him and prepared to excuse herself but stopped short as a thought crossed her mind. Coyly, she peered back at him. "You're not craving sweets at the moment are you, Captain?"

Rex smiled and the odd air around then broke. "Sure thing, Commander."

* * *

Later that day just after Ahsoka had departed from Rex and the food stall that they frequented often alongside Anakin, Obi-wan, and Cody on a good day, she spotted a familiar face in the crowded streets. She paused in her finger licking and felt a lightness overtake her as she registered who it was.

Barris.

As soon as Ashoka stepped forward to call out to her friend, however, a frigid coldness washed over her entire body. It snaked its icy tendrils around her throat and dug its talons into her chest. Gripping tightly without kindness.

She could not speak.

She could not move.

As the cold feeling coiled itself tighter and tighter, she could almost hear it whisper into her ears-

She could not trust.

* * *

It was something that she had discarded. Something worthless. An attachment to her old self that she had gouged away and buried. An ironic feat given that she had been taught to hold onto every single thing with an iron grip and utilize it as a weapon. Frankly, she found some satisfaction in trampling the teachings of _that_ man.

But that _other_ man — the man who expertly wore a false heart on his sleeve — was relentless in his pursuit of gaining her name. With his charming smile and swaggering confidence, he might have been able to gain her name if she were someone else. Instead, the only thing he'd gained was a glare and a deal. After all, as irritating as he was, money was money.

But now because of her encounter with him she was reminded of the two words that had been bestowed some form of identity upon her. Her name.

Asajj Ventress. With that name came many things, attachments, traits. Asajj Ventress, assassin. Asajj Ventress, wielder of the dark side of the Force. Asajj Ventress, apprentice to Count Dooku. Asajj Ventress, ruthless, cunning, fierce. Yes, Asajj Ventress was many things.

Asajj Ventress was not naive, however. She did not misplace her trust so easily. Rather, she did not place her trust anywhere at all.

And so after losing a rather ludicrous gambling game to him, she began to follow the man who had offered her an even more ludicrous job for a most ludicrous amount of money.

The man who had introduced himself to her as Han Solo weaved his way through the tight Coruscant alleyways. In the dim haze of smog that she had become accustomed to seeing hang over the planet near twilight she could barely make out his swaggering figure. If it were not for the years she had been trained tracking the Force signatures of her targets, she would have lost him in the tangle of faded traffic light beams and ambling pedestrians.

Quietly, deftly, carefully, she followed him atop the slick rooftops and dripping pipelines. It was at times like these that her time as an assassin shown through most. Slinking unnoticed — no different from a passing shadow.

Han came to a stop at an abandoned food stall that had a maroon canopy pulled up over its head. The fabric was riddled with holes so Ventress was able to make out two additional individuals huddled beneath it. A woman who looked strangely familiar, and a figure cloaked in a hood.

"The bounty hunter accepted the job," Han said to his companions.

"Good work, Han," the woman clipped. "Hopefully more trustworthy than the lot you usually rope in."

"Hey," Han snapped, "that was one time."

Ventress raised a brow. This was the first she had seen the man riled up in such a fashion. So there was a way to push his buttons after all.

"One time, yes." The woman sighed in such a scathing way that Asajj could almost see the smirk gracing the woman's features. "You mean that one time on Iberim that sent the entire planet's royal guard after us?"

Oh yes, Asajj liked this one.

"Seriously? You're bringing that up again? You always bring that up!" Han sighed in exasperation before he turned to his other companion. "Come on, Luke. Back me up here."

Asajj moved closer to the edge of the building to better view the cloaked figure Han was addressing. Her heart skipped a beat as the figure registered as familiar.

Yes, that was—

"Luke?"

In turn the figure responded in a startlingly familiar voice: "Someone's here—"

Her feelings moved her before her thoughts could. In an instant she was out in the open with her lightsabers drawn. She slashed wildly yet with purpose at the one who had dared to deceive her, and the canopy crumbled away beneath the heat of her saber. But before her weapons met their target, there was a flourish of familiar glowing blue and a flurry of hot sparks.

Saber against saber. A familiar sensation.

Yes, she had crossed blades with this particular lightsaber numerous times before.

But—

The familiar eyes behind the glowing blue blade were foreign. They were eerily calm.

* * *

_anomaly 14_

_His blade comes down relentlessly, ruthlessly. His eyes burn a blue that is brighter than the light from his saber. Vaguely she thinks it would be more fitting if those eyes were yellow and that saber was red. After all, there is such rage in this man. So much rage that it spills out from him more ferociously than the swings of his blade._

_"Leave me alone!"_

_His hulking figure blurs at the cry and becomes overtaken by the figure of another. An unfamiliar man who she can feel swaying back and forth between between black and white._

_A reflection._

_No, she will not let him befall the same fate as her. And so, she reaches out and—_

* * *

— pushed herself away from the blue saber with her own dual blades and stumbled backwards. Ventress's assailant, Anakin Skywalker, Jedi General of the Republic Army, took a step back as well. One of his hands was thrown back almost protectively over Han and their female companion, while the other gripped his saber tightly and steadily. Defensively.

It took Ventress a fraction of a second to collect herself, and in that fraction the Jedi said nothing. He merely observed her with cautious expression. So, she scoffed, "To think the Jedi have fallen so low as to use a street rat to try and reel me into this trap."

"Street rat?" Han repeated with a scowl.

"Trap?" Anakin Skywalker repeated with a thoughtful frown. He looked her over steadily before something akin to realization — not recognition — seemed to dawn on him. " _You're_ the bounty hunter." He glanced back over his shoulder. "You were followed, Han."

Han grimaced. "I can see that."

"Good work, Han," the woman with them said dryly in a tone that Ventress felt burn even from this distance.

Han scowled in response and then eyed the Jedi. Clearly he was expecting Skywalker to call the next shot.

Asajj tensed, preparing either to launch herself forward or to ready herself for the man's launch forward. But-

Suddenly, abruptly, Skywalker sheathed his lightsaber. His hands raised in placation, and he met her gaze calmly. "Let's talk."

"Talk?" If she were not so shaken by the vision she had just had she would have laughed. Instead, she spat venomously. "You want to talk, Skywalker? So you can distract me long enough for your little clones and your little padawan to arrive and capture me?"

He observed her steadily without so much as a twitch of a muscle. His expression betrayed nothing. His stance could not be read. And his eyes—

Damn those eyes. What was wrong with him? Why was he not lashing out with words and slashing out with his saber?

The atmosphere that was building up around them was putting her more on edge than did the carnage of a battlefield. She wasn't used to this sort of feeling in the air. This ease.

"I promise you that's the farthest thing that could happen right now." He replied in a tone that almost sounded akin to one of resignation. He then asked despite the fact that he seemed to already have an answer —"There's a reason why you haven't attacked me again, right? And you must be wondering why I haven't attacked you either."

Asajj's eyes narrowed. Could he know about the vision she had just now? Impossible. Unless he had put the vision there himself. Yes, she had heard of such things being possible from her former master. But Skywalker, while — and she hated to admit it — strong in the Force was not capable of such feats. Was he..?

"Please."

The singular word halted her multiple lines of thought. A word said with such honesty and humility by a voice that she could not have ever imagined connoting the latter. It struck like thunder.

Those behind the Jedi tensed but waited.

Yes, something was amiss.

She sheathed her lightsabers with narrowed eyes and relished in the surprise that flickered across Han Solo's face. At least she had won this round, surely. "Money is money."

And curiosity was curiosity.

* * *

Something definitely had happened to Anakin Skywalker. Rather, something was wrong with him. There was no other explanation for it. There was no other way the irritating Jedi Knight would sit before her so plainly, so unguarded after all they had been through together — against each other, rather. Unless, of course, Kenobi had managed to somehow rub off on him but that seemed impossible. Besides, even Kenobi wouldn't be keen to sit down for a cup of tea with her for a casual conversation.

So, in the end, there was no explanation for Skywalker's behavior other than the possibility of him putting on an act in order to gain some means to an end. But even going this far was extreme for the man. That aside, if Skywalker was truly involved with Han Solo that meant that he was also involved in the proposed ludicrous plan. And if that were true then… how much exactly did he know?

At the moment, all four of them sat around a round table in a dimly lit tavern. The business of the tavern itself was somewhere in between dead and busy. The perfect cover.

She was certain, however, that if any member of the Seperatist Alliance or the Republic came across them now they would surely faint at the sight. Or perhaps they would whip out their blasters, and the tavern would end up a battlefield. It was more amusing to think of the latter scenario.

Brushing these thoughts aside, Ventress strummed her fingers along her crossed arms. "You ask to talk and here we sit in silence."

"Sorry," Anakin Skywalker started from his apparent daze and apologized sheepishly. "I'm trying to get my thoughts in order. I didn't really think things would end up this way."

If the sheepish expression had been on anyone else, Asajj may have thought of it as sickeningly sweet. Seeing it on Skywalker's face however just made her feel plain sick.

"Neither did I." She returned.

"You're skilled with a lightsaber yet you're not part of the Order." Anakin said suddenly, pensively, as he looked her over.

Asajj was unsure of whether the statement had been made jokingly, mockingly, or seriously. She was not sure whether to laugh or to press. What was he playing at pretending to not know anything about her?

And those eyes.

Those damned eyes.

"The color of your lightsabers are red, so you must be someone who uses the dark side of the Force," he continued, rubbing his chin. "And you seem to know me but we're clearly not on friendly terms, so we must have clashed somewhere —probably on the battlefield. Meaning… you were most likely on the Seperatist side of things. Formerly, though, seeing how as you work as a bounty hunter now." He leaned forward and studied her face. "All of that matches with details about the one they call Asajj Ventress."

As he spoke her name, his female companion tensed. And then she sent a heated glare in Han's direction. Han merely grimaced and then shrugged.

Asajj concealed her confusion with a scornful scoff. "What are you playing at, Skywalker? Did you get hit so hard with a blaster that you've lost all sense of the world?"

"That's what most believe." — despite her scathing words, Anakin laughed of all things.

"Jedi Skywalker." The woman who had introduced herself as Leia clipped with a firm frown. This woman who commanded a strong presence in the Force also seemed to have some form of command over the other two men. Perhaps, it was a military-related positional command. Not within the Jedi Order, of course. After all, her control over the Force seemed nonexistent. So perhaps she was associated with the Republic Army? Strange, as Asajj did not recall the Republic having any sort of military commander like her.

Anakin met Leia's gaze and raised his hand reassuringly.

Ventress narrowed her eyes at him when he reset his gaze on her, before she surmised, "So, from what I gather you were injured in a battle and you've lost what little sense you've had and now expect to have me work together with you to infiltrate one of your own facilities." After a pause in thought, she smirked. "Me and you — together, ha! You truly have lost your sense, Skywalker."

There was a long and quiet lull of silence.

"Look, I know you might not find it agreeable to work with Anakin Skywalker," Anakin Skywalker finally said, "but what if you were working with someone different?"

"Kid…" Han cleared his throat in warning.

"What do you mean?" Asajj pressed.

And then before Leia or Han could protest he told her a ridiculous story.

A dark and terrible future where Jedi were a myth and trained wielders of the Force were almost non- existent. A future where there was no Republic, no Senate, no Separatists. A future where a man who crowned himself the Emperor ruled over the galaxy with an iron fist. A future where a Sith Lord serving beneath the Emperor acted as the embodiment of both fear, power, and destruction. A future where an entire planet could be eradicated with the press of a button.

A future that the three sitting before her had just stumbled out from. Two of the three having arrived in their own bodies. And the third somehow crash-landing in the body of a Jedi Knight named Anakin Skywalker.

Ventress took a moment to digest the tale after its conclusion and then surveyed the expression of the other three. So serious, so somber, so tense. She could tell that these three whole-heartedly believed the tale that had just been told.

And as Ventress thought it over, something bubbled inside of her chest. Something that had not bubbled there in a very long time. True, honest laughter. It tore through her body like a flood; and it took several moments for it to clear out from her system. "So you've finally lost it, Skywalker." She finally said as she shook her head and wiped a tear from her eye. "Poor, poor, Skywalker. Looks like your precious Order has finally pushed you too far. What a pity that your resulting delusions have made you dream of a nightmarish fantasy instead of pleasantness."

Yet still, despite her harsh words, Anakin Skywalker did not move.

His female acquaintance, however, did. She rose to a stand, pressed her palms against the flat of the table's surface, and she glowered. Her eyes were like burning embers. Ventress thought the fire in them would be more suitable lit in Anakin's eyes - 'Anakin', rather. "The annihilation of a planet is not something to laugh about." Leia said with a quiet and even tone.

"I can't blame you for not believing us." The man who was apparently not Anakin Skywalker murmured after offering the standing woman a look of sincere understanding and sympathy. "But you have to feel that something isn't right."

Asajj glanced away from Leia and towards not-Anakin.

He was looking at her again with those eyes.

Those damned eyes.

They reminded her of her master's eyes.

Not the master who called himself Dooku. Who raised her up to be a poisonous flower and then clipped her away without a single thought.

Not the master who spirited her away on a slave ship bound to a forsaken planet.

Not any of them.

The master who encountered her in between those two times. The one the Jedi Order had abandoned on that war ravaged world. The master who had extended his hand to her without a thought, who had gazed at her with eyes that glimmered only with soft empathy (not pity).

She couldn't stand them. She couldn't stand the man in front of her who had the same softness in his eyes.

Yes, she could definitely sense that there was something amiss. But—

Asajj Ventress rose to a stand abruptly startling the trio still seated around the table. She left them with a single sentence —"You'll hear from me or you won't."

And she was gone.

* * *

"Good going, Han." Luke sighed, leaning back into his chair with crossed arms.

"Asajj Ventress." Leia rubbed at her temples, before she gave Han a tired look. "Han, people still tell stories about her in our time. And they're not good ones."

"Look, I wasn't the one who told her the whole spiel, alright?" Han said defensively. It was never good when Leia responded calmly to a situation gone south. He glanced at Luke with a mixture of concern and confusion. "We could've just cut ties with her."

Leia followed his gaze and her eyes softened. "Luke, why… why did you tell her so much?"

Luke remained silent for a long while before his expression became contemplative. "I'm sorry. I should've consulted you both before I told her, but… I have a good feeling about this."

* * *

"You're doing that again."

"Doing what?"

"That thing with your head. The scratching. What — did you pick up some sort of space lice while we were out on Yolven?"

Fives lowered his hand and gave Jesse an amused raise of the brow. "Well, if it's lice, I suspect that you lot probably've got it too seeing how we're identical."

They were sitting along the metal benches in the arms quarters of the barracks as they always were around this time of the day on this particular day of the week when they were on Coruscant. It had become a ritual habit for them to come to these quarters at this time and run down their blasters together. How it started — no one knew.

"Maybe you should check in with Kix," Tup suggested from where he sat across from them. "It could be some—"

"I agree." Dogma interjected from across the room. As per usual, he had been wiping down his weapon all the while following along the directions prescribed in the blaster's cleaning instruction manual to a T. Unlike the others, he seemed to visit the arms quarters every single day just to wipe down his blaster. Probably didn't even know about the whole ritual ordeal. There was no way anyone would have told him about it."It's protocol to check in all medical ailments that occur within two weeks of arrival to medical."

"It's not lice." Fives rolled his eyes and exchanged a look of annoyance with Jesse. "Just that I've been havin' these weird dreams lately."

"A dream about lice?" Jesse pressed with a tone that balanced haphazardly between amusement and curiosity.

"What's this about dreams?"— Asking such a thing, Kix entered the room blaster in hand. He surveyed the area before seating himself in-between Fives and Jesse.

"Fives has been having dreams about lice," Hardcase helpfully provided from his perch by one of the lockers. He tossed away the large gatling gun he'd been leisurely scrubbing down in favor of an even larger one he'd set off to the side.

"It's not about lice!" Fives scowled.

"What's it about then?"

Fives weighed his options for a moment, before he rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, promise not to laugh about it?"

Jesse and Tup nodded while Hardcase shook his head. Appo and several of the other men who had not been a part of the conversation slowed their cleaning in order to better listen in.

"Okay, well, I only remember bits and parts of it, but, in my dream..." Fives tried with effort. "There was this chip. This neural implant. It was inside all of our heads. And it made us do things. Terrible things."

Dogma scoffed and shook his head.

"Terrible things?" Jesse pressed.

Fives studied the grooves on his blaster and ran his fingers along them. The sensation calmed him enough for him to continue. "Like," he swallowed, "like turn on the Jedi."'

"Fives." Kix frowned.

"I know." Fives grimaced, looking more disturbed than those who listened on. "And it all was part of some plot, some larger conspiracy to bring down the Jedi. It had all been orchestrated since the beginning. By someone. I don't remember who, but I tried to tell everyone, but then I…"

"That's too crazy to even laugh about." Hardcase whistled before he _laughed_. "Mind givin' me some of whatever you were smoking before you went to bed?"

"It was so real." Fives ran his fingers along that area above his temple again. "So real."

Kix eyed him with an even deeper frown.

"We were made to fight alongside the Jedi." Dogma clicked his tongue. "Not against them." He halted and gave Fives a disapproving look. "You should go down to medical and get a psych evaluation."

Fives turned to him sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"'ve been havin' some weird dreams too," Kix interrupted before Dogma could respond. "Last night I had this one where we were sent out to a campaign where the conditions were so bad we ended up firing at our men without even knowing. And..." he trailed off with a grimace as his eyes found Dogma's form. "Well, I just remember it not ending well for even the best of us."

"What?" One of the others muttered with a pensive grimace. "We're all just gonna start havin' dreams about cutting down brothers and allies now? Sounds awful. "

"Yeah, it _was_ awful." Kix agreed. "Well, anyways, I looked up terrains similar to the one in my dream on a whim, and— boys— I actually found a match."

"Did you now?" Someone asked in a tone they made it difficult to discern the intent. "What's the place?"

A pause — probably for dramatic effect.

"It's called Umbara."

A chill went down Fives's spine as the singular word rang in his ears.

Umbara — why was that word so familiar to him? Umbara, Umbara, Umbara.

"Hell, I've heard a lot about that planet." Jesse winced. "Definitely'd be our luck if we ended up serving out there."

There was a lapse of solemn silence that did nothing to appease Fives's nerves.

"Of course," Kix said calmly, seriously, "it was only a dream."

"But you know I was honestly thinkin' about mentioning it to the General or something." Fives tried as nonchalantly as he could. "Maybe it could be something. The dream I mean." He sideglanced at Kix. "Your dream too"

Hardcase laughed wildly at the statement. "What — you think it's like one of them Jedi Force vision things the Generals mention all the time? Aimin' to be a Jedi now, are ya?"

Fives would have flushed with embarrassment or irritation if it were not for the chill that was still entangled in his spine.

"I wouldn't bother him too much if I was you," Kix interjected, gesturing at him with his blaster. There was that glint in the man's eyes again —the glint that told Fives that the man had entered 'medic' mode. "You've probably heard about it by now, but he's still recovering from the concussion from that detonator. He should be taking it easy and resting—not chasing after someone's nightmare." He paused and made eye contact with each and every single individual in the room ."And by the looks of it we all need some rest."

And just like that, the conversation moved onwards to more mundane topics like missed movie releases, bar brawls, and sport event results. With each new topic, a man would depart with a wave and headed on to handle other things. The crowd thinned and thinned until the only ones left in the quarters were Fives, Jesse, and Tup. Seeing as they arrived together, it made sense that they would leave together as well. Together — as Fives considered this concept, he spoke:

"Tup. Jesse."

"Yes?" In unison, they turned their heads.

"Come with me."

The two addressed men exchanged looks.

"Uh," Jesse raised a brow as he set down his blaster, "you care to elaborate?"

"To Kamino." Fives clarified. "Come with me."

"Feelin' a bit homesick are we?" Jesse chuckled nervously at the suggestion.

"No, that's not it!" Fives snapped, shooting up to a stand and startling both of them. He paced to the door and then back to them and then back to the door all while rubbing his temple. "Guys, I've got a really bad feeling about this."

The two other men were standing now both unsure of whether to laugh nervously or frown worriedly.

"Fives," Jesse said slowly, cautiously with hands raised in placation, "It was just a dream."

"But what if it's not? What if it's—

"What if it's a vision and you're actually a Jedi?" Jesse placed a hand on the man's shoulder and gripped him tight. He waved his hand back and forth to indicate his disbelief. "What if we're all Jedi? You know how ridiculous that sounds, don't you—

"But what if it's because the chip is malfunctioning that I'm having the dream?" Fives snapped, almost feverishly. "I've been having it over and over ever since we went out that night. No matter how hard I try it's all I can think about. There has to be a reason. I need to know."

The look in the man's eyes was startling. Almost frightening. Jesse attempted to exchange a look with Tup but found that the man was fully focused on Fives. Before Jesse could even remotely address the attention, Tup nodded—

"O-Okay…I'll come with you…"

"Hey," Jesse shook his head flabbergasted, "Tup, what are you—"

"You want to go to Kamino to check, right?" Tup pushed forward, ignoring Jesse's look of incredulity. "And afterwards you'll know and you'll be able to take it easy after, right?"

The tenseness in Fives's shoulders loosened somewhat and he turned to Tup with a hopeful glint in his eye.

Jesse frowned.

"I mean — I don't see the harm in doing it." Tup reasoned. "There's more benefit than harm done. And it's safer if we go with him to keep an eye out on him to make sure... Well, we've got to look out for each other."

Jesse could only glare half-heartedly, before he rubbed his face in exasperation. "Fine, but you owe me around after this for usin' our pseudo-leave like this."

"I'll make it five rounds." Fives grinned gratefully. The tenseness in his shoulders was almost entirely dissipated now, and he seemed to look more like himself again.

That was at least until the door behind him abruptly slid open. Someone had been listening surely.

Dogma? No—

"To Kamino, ey?" Hardcase hummed from the other side of the threshold with his usual wild grin. "Count me in."

* * *

The one who claimed to not be Anakin Skywalker despite wearing his face was alone when she came to him. He was out on a balcony that belonged to one of the Illurian Dream's more luxurious apartments, and he inclined his head towards her as she landed noiselessly behind him from a higher rooftop.

"Should I be worried about how easily you found me?" He smiled pleasantly in a way that almost reminded her of a certain Kenobi.

She gestured to the table behind him. Set out on it was a pitcher of blue milk and two empty glasses. "Worried? Clearly you've been expecting me."

Offering her only a half hearted shrug in response, he walked over to the pitcher and filled the two glass cups. She watched him carefully and only moved to accept the glass of milk when he offered it to her.

He seated himself on one of the three chairs encircling the table and then gestured for her to do the same. She accepted the proposal but only after staring at him long and hard. Only a boyish yet sheepish smile bled through his mask of calm reverence.

"I'll accept the job."

A look of relief washed over the man and he sank back into his chair with eyes shut with relief. "Thank goodness." He blinked one eye open at her and smiled. "I thought I was going to have to listen to Han and Leia argue about this for the next five years."

"Hm, you may not believe yourself to be Anakin Skywalker," Asajj observed. "But you are reckless as he is."

A frown smoothed itself over his expression as she said this, and she reveled in finally being able to crack the mask of calm that seemed ever-present on his face.

"So the Order knows nothing of your plans then I'm guessing," Ventress continued, half-asking, half-stating as she studied her nails. "I doubt that the Order would approve of the face of their war effort sending a bounty hunter into one of their prime cloning facilities."

"I'm not sure how deep the Emperor's influence runs." The man replied in turn, before his eyes darkened with worry. "His power already runs deeper than I already thought. The Order… I… "

"Is this Emperor of yours so frighteningly influential that you can't even place trust in your precious little Order?"

"You still don't believe me." There was no expression on his face as he said this.

"And what of it?" Asajj returned, trying to match his tone and evenness. "You get your job completed, and I get paid. What you believe and do afterwards is of little concern to me."

"There's more to this in it for you than just the money." A statement. Not a question.

"Well, of course." She replied. "I'm not going to put my life on the line and risk the possibility of the entire Republic Army having me first on their most wanted list for spare change." She was exaggerating of course. The money was rather good.

"Spare change?" He made a face of confusion and then of defeat. "I really don't understand the currency still..."

If circumstances were different, she may have laughed; but instead she asked—"You're not going to ask for what else I'm aiming for?"

He did not appear surprised when she asked this. Instead, he shrugged. "We all have our reasons." He paused and mulled quietly before he continued: "And if you ever feel comfortable enough to tell me…" The corners of his lips flicked upwards.

Hearing 'Anakin Skywalker' say such a thing in a pleasant tone made her ears feel like they were about to bleed.

"Don't tell me that you trust me." Asajj drew with a deep and short laugh. "There's only so much of this ridiculousness I can stand."

"I wouldn't say that I trust you." The man wearing her enemy's face muttered more to himself than anyone else. "But I do believe in you."

Belief? Hah.

Such naivety. Certainly not even someone as foolish as Anakin Skywalker would say such a thing. Even if suffering from delusions resulting from a head injury.

"You may find me naive," he replied to her unspoken thoughts, "but it's just that I prefer to have more allies than enemies. Besides, you're in a unique position. You're not attached to anything — not the Republic, not the Separatists."

"Not the Jedi." Ventress returned with a smirk, before she added under her breath. "Not the Sith."

He continued to observe her quietly, and that irritating look in his eyes returned. Instead of addressing the topic at hand, however, he said seemingly randomly, "Belief can't be as easily broken as trust, you know."

Asajj blinked in surprise before she chuckled mirthlessly. "So, believer, if you claim not to be Anakin Skywalker, what should I be calling you?"

Without skipping a beat, he answered pleasantly, "Luke."

"Luke." She purposefully repeated his name without inflection.

In turn, he smiled a smile she could not read. "Just Luke." He paused in thought and then nodded at her. "And you? I know you didn't give Han your name, and I wasn't sure if you'd like to be called something different."

Ventress observed him silently for a long while. He didn't seem to mind it. Finally, she said. "Asajj. Just Asajj."

He glanced back at her with his irritating eyes and nodded. "Alright, Asajj." And then he offered her his hand.

Asajj accepted— this time with little pause.

— _43%_

Something changed in Luke's demeanor at that moment. His face paled several shades and his brows knitted together unpleasantly. The grip of his hand tightened around her own; and if she were anyone different, she might have found it painful.

In the distance, something flared blindingly but died away just as quickly leaving Asajj to wonder if anything had really occurred at all.

The whole ordeal lasted only a second.

Loosening his grip, he offered her a wan smile as if all was well. "I'll be right back."

He exited the terrace and entered the room behind them. The door clicked shut noiselessly behind him leaving Asajj alone to the nightlife.

For a moment, she considered leaving but then decided she was rather comfortable where she was at. The terrace was rather luxurious, after all. The Order obviously accommodated well.

When the doors slid open several minutes later, it was not Luke who stood at the threshold. Instead, it was Leia who came out from the room and into the night. The darkness of the sky did little to bury the flame that was in her eyes.

Asajj turned to her curiously.

Now this one. This woman with the — yes, this one seemed to contain all of the fire 'Anakin Skywalker' at the present seemed to lack.

Leia did not wait to be addressed and did not hold back as she spoke: "Frankly I thought we should cut our losses with you. Find some other bounty hunter or mercenary for the job. But Luke just seems to have a bad habit of reaching out for dangerous people." She smiled rather sadly as she then smiled rather devilishly. She continued in a steady yet almost coy tone: "But my faith in Luke is not what made me approve of this plan of his. Your reputation precedes you, Asajj Ventress; and reputations are weapons in themselves, you know?"

Asajj Ventress simply lifted her glass of milk with a quirked brow. "To Kamino." She took a sip.

As expected, it was disgusting.

* * *

Ahsoka flipped her com in between her fingertips with a frown as she leaned against the railings that oversaw the shipping docks. The entire space was owned by the Republic as were the ships rising up to the sky and touching down to the ground.

She remembered the first time she'd come here alongside Anakin and Obi-wan when they'd been tasked to guard an arms shipment out to a rather unstable planet. Her excitement from that time still bled through to now. After all, it was one of the first times Anakin had allowed her to run point on a mission.

The last time she'd come here was with Barris. The latter had been tasked to accept a shipment of supplies touching down from the Clevock system and had to ensure their delivery to one of the battalions. Ahsoka had decided to accompany her on her mission; and afterward, they had gone for fritters.

Barris.

Ahsoka clutched the com tightly in her palm. She had received two messages from her friend but could not bring herself to listen to them. But why? They had never fought — emotionally, that was (lightsaber spars were their go to after all) — and at the moment neither of them had any duties to attend to.

What was going on with her? First that vision and now this?

It as then she spotted a familiar man coming out from a walkway that connected one of the shipment buildings to the departure platforms.

From this distance, she almost mistook the man for someone else. A feat that she thought was almost impossible seeing how he commanded a presence like none another. She had always been surprised at how well he handled covert operations given his height, aura, and stiffness. Now as she spied on Anakin, however, he seemed so much looser, so much smaller.

Just as she was about to call out to him he was joined by a strange pair. A man and a woman. An arguing man and woman. They approached Anakin in unison and began to gesture wildly at each other before ceasing all movements and pinning him down with a glare.

She narrowed her eyes at the strange two. Obi-Wan did mention to her that her master was hanging out with an unusual crowd as of late. Shaking her theories aside, she refocused her attention down below.

Anakin had thrown his hands up defensively and was now thumbing to a small ship behind him. A small supply ship, it seemed. Nothing significant about it.

The odd trio observed the ship together in silence before the strange man and woman began to gesture wildly at each other once more.

Ahsoka quirked a brow at the unfolding events. She wasn't sure whether she was alarmed by the duo's behavior or her master's reaction to said behavior.

After a couple more erratic gestures, the strange woman entered the ship without so much as a glance over her shoulders. Anakin and the other man stared after him for a pause before Anakin reached over and patted the man on his shoulder. The man rubbed his face in turn and entered the ship as well. Shortly after, Anakin entered behind him.

That was her master, alright, she thought to herself as she suppressed an eye roll and a smirk. Always disobeying orders. But…

She frowned as the ship shivered to life. It hummed softly as its engines started to warm; and if the situation were different Ahsoka thought she might be comforted by the sound, but…

Where was he going with them?

He wasn't well enough to go offworld yet, was he? But if he was going offworld despite being told to remain, wouldn't that mean he _was_ well enough in a sense?

Her mind flashed back to the night they had gone out to get fritters together when he'd first touched down on Coruscant, that night that she had escorted him to the Archives while he had looked around seemingly lost, that night that he had stared back at her with such a foreign expression.

She should tell Obi-wan, shouldn't she? Would there be enough time? Or should she…?

As the platform door to the ship began to rise up to a close, Ahsoka made her decision.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big shout out to skye and ziazippy5379 for commenting on literally every chapter!! Tbh, you guys are what pushed me to post this, haha. I do appreciate every single one of your comments and read them thoroughly!! Also, I did see a couple of comments referencing mob psycho--i love that anime!!
> 
> And here's the usual plug and chug:  
> Take a gander at:  
> [ Six Chances ](https://sixchances.com/part-1-the-synchronized-six/) the original web fiction on my website or...  
> [ Six Chances ](https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/28808/the-synchronized-six-six-chances) on Royal Road.  
> twitter: [ @sixchancesstory ](https://twitter.com/sixchancesstory)  
> If you don't like it, you can always unfollow/exit the website! It'd just mean a lot if you checked it out.


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